Choice Of Weapons Lyrics - Jazzmatazz, Vol. 2 (the New Reality) - Guru

[Chorus x 2] 

What's the question? 

Why are you flexin'? 

Here's the answer; choice of weapons 

[Stikken Moov 1] 

Yo, The Remainz, kid, why you flexin like a bicep? 

Heat on your hip just to get a rep; it ain't worth it 

Just because you pack a biscuit doesn't mean you can't 

Become another statistic; you figure it 

Life's a gamble even for vandalz; I handle mine with minds 

Only unless my chest is under pressure in a contest 

The fear of layin' in wreck causes the stress 

I have to adjust to this mess and pull when it's best 

[Guru] 

Yo, little big man, feelin' your oats because you're strapped? 

Bustin' a cap at another kid who's black? 

It ain't all that when the shots are flyin' back 

You made a choice, and the choice you made was whack 

Kinda tipsy, with the liquid confidence 

Pullin' your pistol when it doesn't make sense 

To be the bigger man you figure 

But in the end, it don't pay when you're livin' by the trigger 

[Chorus x 2] 

[Guru] 

Yeah, it's the master of the who, what, where, and the why 

But, still, I got a problem with seein' my brothers die 

I've been around and lived past the average age of us 

In every obituary, a full page of us 

The game is money, but what about inner wealth? 

The mental, the spiritual, and physical health 

But still, everyday, the city is a test 

That's why some people feel a gun is the best 

[Stikken Moov 2] 

No doubt I pack protection, but every altercation 

Or situation doesn't deserve blastin'; I mastered precisions 

Choice of weapon - should I peel or peel out? 

My choice of routes may decide my whereabouts 

[Chorus x 2] 

[Stikken Moov 2] 

I pack no weapons then the seargeant bargin in 

Ready to bomb a rapper like Saddam, Stikken Moov swarm 

Ready to bust off, like Ron Jeremy, but I chill, G 

Relax and consider lucky to live to see a quarter past three 

[Guru] 

That's why I wield the steel; yes, my microphone is crazy real 

I'm not the one sellin' out to get the mass appeal 

But jail cells are filled with my peeps 

While the rest are gettin' killed in these ill-ass streets 

[Chorus x 2] 

[Guru] 

So, pick your weapon - a mic or a gun 

I make a sucker run when my tongue stuns; check it 

Leavin' the spot, I seen some wild kids 

One stepped to me, asked me to freestyle, kid 

Meanwhile he flexed a burner on his side 

I looked him in the eye, smiled, and walked to my ride 

He was actin' kinda hard on the surface 

I said to myself that it really wasn't worth it 

[Stikken Moov 1] 

Yo, you think you're all that, 'cause you pack heat? 

Seein' your own brother play the concrete in defeat 

Tryin' to prove yourself while you put the next man down 

But what goes around, comes back, black; best believe that 

[Chorus x 2] 

You know what I'm sayin'? 

That's all the real heads all over the world 

That realize that this music is real 

That we keep it real like that 

Peace to all my brothers on the third 

And all the real brothers in hip-hop 

It's like a rap's new generation thing, baby 

Peace to Guru 

It's Panche, the wild comanche, suicide