It's plain to see, you can't change me 'Cause I'mma be a nigga for life Why do I call myself a nigga you ask me? Why you brothers insist on usin' the word nigga? Don't you know that's bringin down the black race? Personally I think the lyrics are a bit

Pushing me away Ya push, push, pushing me away Every last word, every single thing you say Try to stop me now, but it's already too late If you really don't care, then say it to my face You push, push, you're pushing me away Push, push, pushing me away

It's too late to pretend You know me better than I know myself Don't take my heart and put it on a shelf Always someone else The next guy who will Make your cold heart melt I'm gonna give my love to someone else La la la la la She's such a flirt

Now I found some Grace beneath the judge's gavel Grace among my brothers on the firing line Grace upon this road less traveled Grace beneath the pines, the pines Grace beneath the pines There'll be no more running round for me No more going down, you'll

Why don't you come over 'bout a quarter to nine Bring all of your fam'ly and I will bring mine If I should bring my brothers, and you bring the others Then I can sing a song like Jeru, just for you Just for all the lovely people that you see in the road

Grind with my brothers 'til we make it out the sticks You a broke nigga, prolly switch up for a bitch I was in the game, you was sittin' on the bench Chillin' with my woes like we came up from the six I don't fuck with girls that be all up in the mix

Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times They can be fucking with other niggas shit, but they can't be fucking with mine I was raised in the hood called what the diffrence The brothers in the hood be chivalrous So I rest defense on my ligaments Pistol

These mist covered mountains Are a home now for me But my home is the lowlands And always will be Some day you'll return to Your valleys and your farms And you'll no longer burn To be brothers in arms Through these fields of destruction

So turn right Into my arms You won't be alone Fall off this track sometimes Hope to see you on the finish line Somehow I'm to blame Pick up all your tears

Me and my band of brothers got you covered On the honky tonk front lines Well, we ain't no rookies; it's our third tour of duty Yeah, that's all right I came up through the trenches where We only played for tips and alcohol You find out what you're made