Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Letter to the President’ by 2Pac. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 2Pac or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Uh, dear Mr. President
Whats happenin’?
I’m writin’ you because, shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood
Pretty much the same way, right around the time when you got elected
Ain’t nothin’ changed
All the promises you made, before you got elected, they ain’t came true
Tell me what to do, these niggas actin up in the hood
Send mo’ troops, dear Mr. President (Me and my homies is wonderin’ what’s goin on, holla!)
Tell me what to do, these niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Why should I lie, when I can dramatize?
Niggas fell victim to my lyrics, now traumatized
Simply by spittin I’ve been blessed given riches, enemies suspicious
Cause I’m seldom in the company of bitches
Plus the concepts I depict, so visual, that you can kiss
Each and every trick or bitch, inside the shit I kick
My heaviest verse’ll 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 homies want to 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, nigga what you smokin’ on?
Figure if we high they can train us
But then America fucked up and blamed up
I guess it’s cause we black that we targets
My only fear is God, I spit that hard shit
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
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops (What should I do?)
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Oh you’se a ball 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 crashed and the heartless
And young soul bros, ready to rode a star ship
Launch it, leave a nigga flat for scratch, the Godless
I gotta get chips, but you can’t understand that
Want to ban rap? Stand back, before you get hurt
It’s the only thing makin’ pay besides smoke and work
On a mission listen more chips my goal and position
First on my decision I realized the same nigga
Trippin’ to drastic measures tryin’ to get stacks of cheddar
Muh’fuckers hate cops, wait it ain’t gettin’ better
But you keep, tellin’ us, that it is
While your motherfuckin’ troops keep killin’ our kids, dig
Don’t be surprised if you see us
Dumpin’ with nuttin but artillery to free us, motherfucker
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Strapped and angry, with no hope and heart broke
Fightin’ first my trained brain until it’s not so
It’s hostile, niggas 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, squeakin’ on they beefs 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’ma 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’s’ll freeze the biggest with ease
I’m still a nigga 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
Shit is still fucked up y’all
And y’all wonder when it’s gon’ get better
And it ain’t gon’ get better
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up
Heavenly Father may I holla at you briefly
I want to meet the President, but will he meet me?
He’s scared to look inside the eyes of a Thug Nigga
We tired of bein scapegoats for this capitalistic drug dealin’
How hypocritical is Liberty?
That blind bitch ain’t never did shit 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 nigga 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 momma’s strung out on drugs
Down to die, for everything I represent
Meant every word, in my letter to the President
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’
Til then we gonna keep it comin, Mr. President, hehe
And I meant every word in my letter to the President
Word motherfuckin’ life
F*ck this nigga think?
Cuttin’ taxes, takin’ off welfare
We ‘sposed to just sit here, go broke and die, starvin’?
Motherfuckers crazier than a motherfuckin’?
Nigga this Thug Life, Westside Outlaw Immortalz nigga
We fin’ to hustle til we come up
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops
Dear Mr. Clinton, shit
It’s gettin’ harder and harder for a motherfucker
To make a dollar in these here streets
I mean shit, I hear you screamin’ peace
But we can’t find peace
Til my little niggas 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 nigga out?
Sayin’ you cuttin’ welfare
That got us niggas on the street, thinkin’ who in the hell care?
Shit, y’all want us to put down our glocks and our rocks
But y’all ain’t ready to give us no motherfuckin’ dollars
What happened to our 40 acres and a mule fool?
We ain’t stupid
Think you got us lookin’ to lose
Tryin’ to turn all us young niggas into troops
You want us to fight your war
What the f*ck I’m fightin’ for?
Shit, I ain’t got no love here
I ain’t had a check all year
Taxin’, all the blacks and
Police beatin’ me in the streets, f*ck peace
These niggas actin up in the hood, send mo’ troops