เนื้อเพลง Letter to The President - 2Pac

Intro:
Uh… Dear Mr. President.
What’s happening?
I'm writin’ you because, sh*t is still real f*cked up in my neighborhood.
Pretty much the same way, right around the time when you got elected.
Ain't nothing changed. All the promises you made, before you got elected.
They ain't came true. Me and my homeyz wonder what’s going on?
Holler.

Chorus:
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do?
These n*ggaz actin’ up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do?
These n*ggaz actin’ up in the hood, send mo' troops

Verse 1:
Why should I lie, when I can dramatize?
N*ggaz fell victim to my lyrics, now traumatized.
Simply by spittin’ I've been blessed given riches, enemies suspicious.
Cuz I'm seldom in the company of b*tches.
Plus the concepts I depict, so visual, that you can kiss.
Each and every trick or b*tch, inside the sh*t I kick.
My heaviest verse will move a mountain.
Casualties in mass amounts, brothers keep countin’.
F*ck the friendships, I ride alone.
Destination Death Row, finally found a home.
Plus all my homey’s wanna die, call it euthanasia.
Dear Lord, look how sick this ghetto made us,
Sincerely yours, I'm a thug, the product of a broken home.
Everybody's doped up, n*gga what you smokin’ on?
Figure if we high they can train us.
But then America f*cked up and blamed us.
I guess it's cause we black that we targets.
My only fear is God, I spit that hard sh*t.
In case you don't know, I let my pump go.
Get ride for M'Thulu like I ride for Geronimo.
Down to die, for everything I represent.
Meant every word, in my Letter to The President.

Chorus:
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do?
These n*ggaz actin’ up in the hood, (What should I do?) send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do?
These n*ggaz actin’ up in the hood, send mo' troops

Verse 2:
Oh you’re a baller in the White House, I hope you comfortable.
Cause yo I spend my nights out, with the lights out.
Under the safety of darkness, amongst the crazed and the heartless.
And young soul bro, ready to rode a starship.
Launch it, leave a n*gga flat for scratch, the Godless.
I gotta get chips, but you can't understand that.
Wanna ban rap? Stand back, before you get hurt.
It's the only thing making pay besides smoke and work.
On a mission listen more chips my goal and position.
First on my decision I realized the same n*gga.
Trippin’ to drastic measures tryin’ to get stacks of chedda.
Motherf*ckers hate cops, wait it ain't gettin better.
But you keep, telling us, that it is.
While your motherf*cking troops keep killin our kids, dig.
Don't be surprised if you see us.
Dumpin with nothing but artillery to free us, motherf*cker.
Chorus:
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.

Verse 3:
Strapped and angry, with no hope and heartbroke.
Fightin’ first my trained brain, until it's not so.
It's hostile, n*ggaz lick shots to watch the glocks glow.
Cadres of coppers patrol us like we some animals.
And it ain't no peace, my peace a piece on my streets.
To people beefin’ and things, squeaking on they feet’s for weeks.
Mr. President, it's evident, nobody really care.
For a struggle out the gutter, twenty-two with gray hair.
I was raised to raise hell, frail and my heart stale.
So I'm a bring hell to earth until my heart fail.
But y'all play fair, give me and mine, I'll share.
Til y'all show us you care, it's gon' be mayhem out here.
Me and these 223 'll freeze the biggest with ease.
I'm still a n*gga you fear, bring the beast to his knees.
And I've been born to represent, for that I've been heaven sent.
And I meant, every word, in my letter, to the President.

Bridge:
Sh*t is still f*cked up y'all.
And y'all wonder when it's gon' get better.
and it ain't gon' get better.

Chorus:
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.

Verse 4:
Heavenly Father may I holla at you briefly.
I wanna meet the President, but will he meet me?
He's scared to look inside the eyes of a thug n*gga.
We tired of being scapegoats for this capitalistic drug dealer.
How hypocritical is Liberty?
That blind b*tch ain't never did sh*t for me.
My history, full of casket and scars.
My own black nation at war, whole family behind bars.
And they wonder why we scarred, thirteen lookin’ hard.
Sister had a baby as an adolescent, where was God?
Somewhere in the middle of my mind.
Is a n*gga on the tightrope, screamin let him die.
Can't lie I'm a thug, drownin in my own blood.
Lookin’ for the reason that my mamma's strung out on drugs.
Down to die, for everything I represent.
Meant every word, in my letter to the President.

Verse 5:
Blacks is broke, think it's a joke that we livin’ low?
Y'all sniffin’ blow and postin’ what they hittin fo'?
Tell the secretary it's necessary we get paid.
Look what you made, little kids gettin’ sprayed.
Day after day, and night after night.
Battles and wars to the daylight.
We might change and rearrange if you do somethin’.
‘Till then we gonna keep it comin, Mr. President. (Hehe)
And I meant every word in my letter to the President.

Outtro:
Word motherf*cking life.
F*ck this n*gga thing?
Cutting taxes, taking off welfare.
We supposed to just sit here, go broke and die, starving?
Motherf*ckers crazier than a motherf*cking scout.
N*gga this Thug Life, Westside, Outlaw, Immortalz, n*gga.
We fin' to hustle ‘till we come up.

Chorus:
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.

Chorus:
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.

Outtro:
Dear Mr. Clinton, sh*t.
It's getting harder and harder for a motherf*cker.
To make a dollar in these here streets.
I mean sh*t, I hear you screaming peace.
But we can't find peace.
‘Till my little n*ggaz on these streets get a piece.
I know you feel me cause you too near me not to hear me.
So why don't you help a n*gga out?
Saying you cutting welfare.
That got us n*ggaz on the street, thinking who in the hell care?
Sh*t, y'all want us to put down our glocks and our rocks.
but y'all ain't ready to give us no motherf*cking dollars.
What happened to our 40 acres and a mule fool?
We ain't stupid.
Think you got us looking to lose.
Trying to turn all us young n*ggaz into troops.
You want us to fight your war.
What the f*ck I'm fighting for?
Sh*t, I ain't got no love here.
I ain't had a check all year.
Taxing, all the blacks and police beating me in the streets.
F*ck peace.
These n*ggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops.