Big Remo Soldier Lyrics
Soldier by Big Remo
[Intro: 2Pac]
In hip hop the nigga is still living
The nigga that does all the dirt is still living so
[Big Remo]
It's real nigga shit
[2Pac]
That might be that hero shit
That goes back to Africans telling stories and shit
You know, we"re just passing that hero
Like a soldier though
[Verse 1: Big Remo]
I had a dream
Something like Martin Luther the King
And I could see it
Right before my eyes, and it was wild
I could be it
Only if I tried a little meaner
Make my momma a believer
We were riding out to Phoenix
In a little limo lease
Nah, it was a rental car from Big Homie
For a vacay, but I had my demo on me
Now pause, this was 1994
I'm living on the west side, Tre-Fo
In Phoenix met a nigga, he was from the Tre-Fo
In the same hotel, and we became folks
He said he never heard such words
And I'm from home
And my voice was strong, had spunk like Stallone
I was wet behind the ears
Headlights to a deer
Buckshots to a nigga with a gauge with the pen
So I figured I'd roll with him
[?] weekend
Would be mom be the purpose of the ride to Phoenix?
All the gas in this motherfucking rental we spent
In a four cylinder, a horse could beat if he sprint nigga
But I was born to feel like God touched a nigga's spirit
I remember it like a dream
Martin Luther King
[2Pac]
We could never take the stance, which was our true stance
To be straight soldiers, straight warriors
Until hip hop came
It was alright for a nigga to say fuck y'all
We'll do what the fuck we want
[Verse 2: HaLo]
Peep
Words of a daily scribe
Palestinian thoughts through Israeli eyes
Most complaints from those who have barely tried
I dream this everyday before my daily rise
Fried from fuchsia colored buds
That loosen up the lugs, gave brews a couple chugs
(mumbles the next rhyme scheme)
And Boo is a buttercup
We cool and cuddle up
The roundest bubble butt
We clown and cut it up
The sounds of summer yep, yep, yep
Old rules, no rules when you run it but
Got to sell the dream, sell the fame
Wrapped in cellophane
Send them all back from where the hell you came
Propeller plane fly, plotting on towns to gain
It's easy when the whole world sounds the same
Strange, I can't get out this rain
Strange, I can't get out this rain
Sun showers are a sign of the power
This expedition the trim is Eddie Bauer
Now or never got to get it together
For better or worse, Velveeta this cheddar
Yes sir
Collected and clever
When communicating this criteria all together
No, you would never navigate a nautical knot
Without your crew's Capitan calling the shots
Now who's hot?
And Boo is a buttercup
We cool and cuddle up
The roundest bubble butt
Now who's hot?
Now who's hot?
Now who's hot?
In hip hop the nigga is still living
The nigga that does all the dirt is still living so
[Big Remo]
It's real nigga shit
[2Pac]
That might be that hero shit
That goes back to Africans telling stories and shit
You know, we"re just passing that hero
Like a soldier though
[Verse 1: Big Remo]
I had a dream
Something like Martin Luther the King
And I could see it
Right before my eyes, and it was wild
I could be it
Only if I tried a little meaner
Make my momma a believer
We were riding out to Phoenix
In a little limo lease
Nah, it was a rental car from Big Homie
For a vacay, but I had my demo on me
Now pause, this was 1994
I'm living on the west side, Tre-Fo
In Phoenix met a nigga, he was from the Tre-Fo
In the same hotel, and we became folks
He said he never heard such words
And I'm from home
And my voice was strong, had spunk like Stallone
I was wet behind the ears
Headlights to a deer
Buckshots to a nigga with a gauge with the pen
So I figured I'd roll with him
[?] weekend
Would be mom be the purpose of the ride to Phoenix?
All the gas in this motherfucking rental we spent
In a four cylinder, a horse could beat if he sprint nigga
But I was born to feel like God touched a nigga's spirit
I remember it like a dream
Martin Luther King
[2Pac]
We could never take the stance, which was our true stance
To be straight soldiers, straight warriors
Until hip hop came
It was alright for a nigga to say fuck y'all
We'll do what the fuck we want
[Verse 2: HaLo]
Peep
Words of a daily scribe
Palestinian thoughts through Israeli eyes
Most complaints from those who have barely tried
I dream this everyday before my daily rise
Fried from fuchsia colored buds
That loosen up the lugs, gave brews a couple chugs
(mumbles the next rhyme scheme)
And Boo is a buttercup
We cool and cuddle up
The roundest bubble butt
We clown and cut it up
The sounds of summer yep, yep, yep
Old rules, no rules when you run it but
Got to sell the dream, sell the fame
Wrapped in cellophane
Send them all back from where the hell you came
Propeller plane fly, plotting on towns to gain
It's easy when the whole world sounds the same
Strange, I can't get out this rain
Strange, I can't get out this rain
Sun showers are a sign of the power
This expedition the trim is Eddie Bauer
Now or never got to get it together
For better or worse, Velveeta this cheddar
Yes sir
Collected and clever
When communicating this criteria all together
No, you would never navigate a nautical knot
Without your crew's Capitan calling the shots
Now who's hot?
And Boo is a buttercup
We cool and cuddle up
The roundest bubble butt
Now who's hot?
Now who's hot?
Now who's hot?