The Lyrical Assassins Brotherhood Poetry

Soldier Story

In the street game there only two types of people, the quick and the dead. In this game only real soldiers stay under the radar and keep the competition from growing. Our feature poet today, Candi Cane, has captured this life and death struggle. Where only the fit survive. There only two ways out of this, dead or in jail! How have you survived the “SOLDIER STORY”!

“We living this until the day that we die, survival of the fit, only the strong survive” – Mobb Deep

Black Phoenix

Chief Rocka #1



28 responses

  1. Man, I am really feeling this peice and your style. You done wrecked this!!!! Welcome to the Underground.


    October 8, 2011 at 4:42 pm

  2. you did your thang here…this is so powerful…ready to march with you!

    October 8, 2011 at 5:00 pm

  3. great attitude …… impressive strength

    October 8, 2011 at 5:00 pm

  4. MizzFab

    great job candi cane

    October 8, 2011 at 5:02 pm

  5. good shit.. hood shit… i love it!!

    October 8, 2011 at 5:18 pm

  6. Kimberly Miles

    Love this one…amazing job Candi Cane!!

    October 8, 2011 at 5:18 pm

  7. he

    Sounds good I’m will be outside.

    October 8, 2011 at 6:00 pm


    Thats right sis do your thang!!!!!!!! I love this

    October 8, 2011 at 6:33 pm

  9. Marcus/ Twino

    That was hot..

    October 8, 2011 at 6:49 pm

  10. T MsUndastood Wise

    I love this… you’re a lyrical assassain.. soldier with a pen!

    October 8, 2011 at 6:54 pm

  11. thanx you guys….i appreciate it!

    October 8, 2011 at 7:54 pm

  12. Red Dirt

    2 years eatin out of a state box
    kickin rocks
    round the yard
    doin my stretch
    wit posers an preachers
    frontin the game
    no shame
    for the lies
    and disguise
    they aint held no piece
    cept their own
    flled wit piss
    and vinegar
    and a gansta’s wish
    for glory and fame
    that don’t exist
    fuckin lame
    how they eat dat shit
    and don’t look around
    at the sights
    and sound
    of fights
    and dreams
    smoked out
    chocked out
    waitin on the next bid
    for something he did
    to stay alive
    on ramen
    and flies
    fillin is mind
    with a growling stomach
    and the shadow of bars

    October 8, 2011 at 8:41 pm

    • That my friend is deep. I dig your imagery. I felt the grit.


      October 8, 2011 at 9:27 pm

      • Red Dirt

        Thanks David, and Candy, for the space. Spent twenty years Humpin rucks in the rain and two in the fishbowl, my big about face!!!

        October 8, 2011 at 9:57 pm

  13. Candi, this a blazing piece… you killed it.

    October 8, 2011 at 10:42 pm

  14. MizzFab

    Blessed with a crack addict mother
    tried to kill me before i was born
    damaged my trust when i was 3
    gave me up to the system
    and i fought
    when that little boy touched me
    and i fought
    when my new mom hit me
    beat me
    left bruises on my shattered soul
    i fought to be
    make me invisible
    dress me in camouflage
    so i blend in with my surroundings
    i am a soldier
    fighting for my serenity
    trying to push these demons past me
    i pray for victory
    while the devil tries to kill me
    give me pills to shut them up
    yet my mood stabilizers
    aint stabilizing shit
    and i feel myself
    yet fighting
    fighting my way
    through hell
    fighting my way
    through this depression
    seeping in my veins
    marching past the past
    marching past ghosts
    slowly sneaking
    past the landmines
    i swear i can see the light ahead
    i am a relentless renegade
    pursuing my passion
    oblivious to the scars
    oblivious to the stinging
    i am a fighter
    and this soldier story
    has just begun
    the storm settles
    but i do not relax
    i brace myself
    cause i know rain is ahead……

    October 9, 2011 at 12:37 am

    • Very powerful and well written MizzFab. Very inspiring.


      October 9, 2011 at 1:07 am

    • I told you Mizz FAb that you got that heat

      October 11, 2011 at 2:49 pm

  15. A Soldier’s Story
    By David Cardenas

    On my streets is where revolution begins
    Deep in the heart of those confused within
    Hit by concussion grenades and drive bys
    Medics rush with aid, but really, why try
    Bodies lie, money flies and corruptions is expected
    Babies walk these streets shell shocked and dissected
    Survival is a soldier’s number one directive
    But fighting the pain, sometimes is not an elective
    My eyes have seen battlefields and war zones
    Crack houses have occupied more homes
    Teenagers carrying automatic weapons to end strife
    Prepared to die or spend the next twenty-five to life
    In prison, it cuts like knife with perfect precision
    And even in the night, I see with perfect vision
    People barely living, drinking to numb the pain
    Fatal decisions hurt and seem to stump the game
    Fear and these streets, well, there one in the same
    This shit runs deep like taking one in the brain
    I stand under the broken streetlight paper grinding
    Staying out of deep sight avoiding the one timing
    It’s hard to keep shining with all this dirt I do
    But I’m a soldier and the pay off is worth it dude
    This is my story today; tomorrow I might be a statistic
    Buried away under a barrage of bullets so horrific
    See this is a war that we were never meant to win
    So if I don’t die, believe me the revolution begins

    October 9, 2011 at 2:40 am

  16. RED DIRT……yes, yes……im glad to see that shared and with such rawness too…..LOVE IT! MizzFab….GOT DAYUUUUM! thats what i love to see……soldiers come in all forms but still have to fight just as hard….great piece and thanks for sharing………and David….damn i LOVE this…..alot of people ridicule the lifestyle but if thats all someone knows how can it be wrong for them… this world its survival of the fittest and i for one Will survive by ANY MEANS NECESSARY…..

    concrete heartbeat, my feelings are stone cold
    nothin soft about me, my short fuse itchin to explode
    i gotta eat, feed my fam and take care of the homefront
    cant do a 9-5 or be a mark ass stunt
    ima a rider
    sporting my war uniform, fatigues and my fitted
    its cake out there and my only option is to get it
    im hungry……starving…..famished…i need to be fed
    the hunt is on and my weapon is hot lead

    we all out here fighting over the cakeplate
    gotta get whats mine before it too late…….then its gone
    i never let oppurtunity pass me
    whats urs is mine even if i gotta blast B

    its nuthin personal….i just want what u got
    not my fault u out flossin and made urself hot
    thats not hatin by any means….im an entreproNIGGA
    ill lay everybody down , my cake pieces get bigger……

    so dont ever tell me and i cant have my cake and eat it too
    i got a ill ass sweet tooth…..nigga i thought u knew


    October 9, 2011 at 2:06 pm

  17. Red Dirt

    Tomorrow is a dream
    borrowed from today’s
    wishes that the past
    was a place to stay

    Live now
    remembering is quitting
    no today’s
    or tomorrows
    to say
    you walked
    not talked
    about what you did
    or how you hid
    from life in fear
    of what was near
    and felt so good
    you almost stood
    the test of time
    but retreated
    life with tomorrow’s
    words to borrow
    on last step
    towards something
    anything real
    or imagined
    lies today
    in a mystery
    of faith
    and fear
    right before you
    uncomfortably near
    the truth of you
    and what you are
    beyond the scar
    of life

    today is you
    and tomorrow’s not real
    yesterday’s a wall
    so live what you feel

    October 9, 2011 at 6:15 pm

    • Very deep. Yesterday is a wall… Heavy.


      October 10, 2011 at 2:11 pm

  18. Chelle

    Candi!!! AKA BUNNNAAAYYY!!!!! Hot shit my girlie!!!

    October 9, 2011 at 10:03 pm

  19. Lyrical Soldier Story
    By Dirty Cash

    I’m a mic spitta, battling when the lights go on
    I live to rip ya, fuck who you are, my flows strong
    No competition, I’m flipping every catz who’s spitting
    My mission is clear; to destroy everything living
    If you step in my sights, be prepared to fight
    Because I destroy mics if they dare to write
    My mind is full of metaphors, pocket full of rhymes
    I’ll leave you dead on the floor when I drop these lines
    I sleep in the beat; don’t know the meaning of the word defeat
    I eat the weak and spit bullets like a lyrical beast
    I was born a soldier; my mental tactics blast quick
    And when I digest you, what comes out is bad shit
    It’s Dirty Cash bitch; leaving catz in caskets
    Flow so graphic; fuck them over – prophylactic
    Trash their ass and seal them in plastic
    I keeps them blindfolded standing in traffic
    And when I flow it, damn it, it gets drastic
    You don’t want to fuck with a lyrical soldier
    With shit for brains and a chip on my shoulder
    Cause after we face, I’ll deface you from the cue
    Until the crowd hates you, and you know I’m better then you

    October 10, 2011 at 5:17 am

  20. Barren land, surround by sand, only my platoon to watch my back;
    Who would have thought, I would have fought; look now I’m standing in Iraq.
    People dying, soldiers crying, how did all this come to be?
    What the heck, last time I checked, I was driving around Germany.
    Hearts are racing, soldiers chasing, this is becoming a crazy fight;
    This sector hot, I’ve been shot, are they really trying to take my life?
    Adrenaline flowing, now I am going, using all the skills taught to me for such a day;
    Shoulders on fire, I’m getting tired; but some one is really going to pay.
    Think this through, what should I do, can not run into the dark on my own;
    This wound hurts, but dying worst, can’t imagine my son all alone.
    M-4 cocked, took my first shot, Wait! Did I see that guy just hit the ground?
    Do what I do, the killing not cool, I vomit, and I think I want to go home now!
    This is some crazy stuff, the times are rough, I am glad that this fight has finally stopped.
    Time to regroup, get bandaged and recoup; WHAT! Our staff sergeant has been shot.
    Whoa! I am next in line, my time to shine, never thought I would see one of our own die.
    Take body back to base; this is an awful place, Browne you’re promoted; I ask Allah WHY?
    That night we wept, no one even slept, I prayed as any Muslim is supposed to pray;
    Platoon looks at me strange, I Muslim that will not change, get some sleep tomorrows a new day.

    October 11, 2011 at 2:54 pm


    October 15, 2011 at 12:24 am

  22. Yay!!! I walk through the valley of what my mountain cousins call death/ around these parts that number 14, uniting right and left/ now that I taken a breath, I shall giveth a ef/ along with uck to the u that seeks out our depth/ in order to control yet my words unfold/ a flat surface into hedrons ready to explode/ my earth wants majesty all I want is peace/ and somewhere in between we cut the head of the beast/ never the least always the moor we rising/ even at my worst downsizing is not appetizing/ and I eat crush, masticate and acidic wash/ enzyme activate, enpu on a travel march/ duat, flush my kidney, scream on sidney/ down under, stab tracks, like moses they hid me/ let’s be civil the only rights you get is by beating a bully’s ass/ otherwise what was written on parchment was really on paper glass/ everlast, my doro cell always listen to anyanwu/ and what I spit will definitely armor you….

    October 15, 2011 at 8:00 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s