What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      Yo, [unverified] 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      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 wack      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      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      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      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      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      I pack no weapons then the sergeant 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      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      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      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      Yo, you think you're all that 'cuz 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      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      What's the question? Why are you flexin'?   Here's the answer, choice of weapons      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