2 Hardcore 4 U

Like two soldiers, we stroll down our street packing a 9 just in case. A war happens here everyday, and no matter who you are, if you're in the vicinity, you're dragged into the fray. Walking like kings and thinking like gods, we know the next move, like a game of chess. We see all the pawns in this little game and we have their name and number. They fear us like they fear the wrath of god.

We're the peace keepers, law enforcers and judges for all intensive purposes. Our law is dictated by the knuckles we throw. There are none innocent of crime. There are always adversaries, rivals and nemeses. Shaking the very core of this planet, we bring them to their knees, knowing that they have just received a warning. When death rears it's ugly head, it always sides with us. Hardcore battles, demonic tournaments and skirmishes unleash where only those powerful in mind and body survive.

Driven by peace and unity, we are dragged into violence with only one outcome predicted. They are no challenge for us, for there is not just two of us. There's two thousand, two million, so many more than them. They have no right in this place and as such, we strip them of their temporary passes. Knowing that exile is infinitely long is a thought that walks with all the guilty. We do what we must. We keep the peace as best we can. When war calls, we heed and answer. A prayer is solemn comfort, but rage is a dangerous weapon, which we wield in grace and finesse.

A silent glance could feed you your tongue and a sly snigger is a death sentence. High noon draw is a sight to behold. How fast are you on the trigger? Like lightning, the hot lead leaves the barrel with devastating consequences. Keep you eye on the target with no fear of the reaper, and a scythe, just another game, but a different situation. A gleam in your eye will be washed dry and your mind will be crumbled and crushed until all emotion is driven, screaming from you, never knowing when the next encounter of the wrong kind will take place.

Some say we're the chosen, ordained by the god of street life and given the strength of demons. Some say we're a menace and that our defending actions cause more harm than good. We say, "We are what we are. We do what we do, and we don't just do it for us, we do it for you." They don't see this. We put our lives on the line to stop infections reaching the young. Drugs, alcohol and other fiery little imps prey. With our gift, we chase them back to the depths of the underworld.

Too hardcore for you? Damned straight, we are. We deserve respect. We fought hard enough and, like heroes, we save the lives of the innocent. All the while, a torrent of blood rains on the battlefield, that can spread over civilian territory. Stay inside, close the doors and shut the windows. The sound will frighten small children and your pets. Like fireworks night, a battle cry hollers over the thunder crash. There are two ending forms. The quick or the dead. There is no medium, no mid-points, and no truces or compromises. Then silence, and judgement is final.

Until the end of our days, we'll be standing toe to toe with the dark hearts of the unjust. We'll take it to the next degree every time, and we have no fear. We've seen it all and more. You can't scare us. You can't shock us. You can escape from us, but only for a timid time. Then your fate becomes ours and we write your destiny. Watch the blades, see if you can count them.

((Dedicated to Big Dave, A.K.A Split Link, Club Hands, Chinky Chest, Cave Man and Killer Weed. Hardcore soldier to the end.))