WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING FOR?

I would stand amidst the fists, on the battlefield,
amongst an army of red and an army of blue
and I'd stand tall and true, as I ask you
"what, are your fighting for?"

This 4 foot by 4 foot concrete block you're arguing for, and bartering for
is merely a prison without bars that still manages to arrest you
by confining you mind
and you allow this corner to define you
and you're redefining yourself by calling yourself a street corner entrepreneur
and I ask you "what, are you fighting for?"

..You see, I'm fighting for you
because I'm sick and tired of watching you destroy your lives
while you divide and conquer yourselves
so I'm trying my hardest to bring you back, together, again
I'm sick and tired of this happening over and over and over again
and I can no longer pretend its not happening,
because now…its getting to close to home
now your standing on corners I used to call my own
corners I once considered a safe zone
but now…I'm too afraid to let my mother walk to the store alone
because these streets…they're covered with cowardly fake gangsters
and I'm angered…at the nonsense
that rag on your head, is somehow keeping, knowledge from seeping, into your brain
don't you see that you're dying for nothing
rather than living for something
you're self destructing
and just messing yourselves over
and I ask you "what, are you fighting for?"

You're waging wars
over something that never was, and never will be yours
because "owning the streets"
is just a fictitious concept
that gets misused by hip hop dudes trying to pass themselves off as reincarnated gangsters
so contrary to popular belief
no matter how deep your gang is
or how much money you think you'll make from crack rocks
the only concrete blocks you'll ever own
are the ones that come with steel bars
or the ones we call tombstones
so I guess the only decisions left for you to choose
is whether the fabric in y our casket
should be red, or blue
and I ask "what…are you dying for?"