Brian Stanley - Homicide lyrics

This for my man yo... word up [Radio transmission] "I got a 187 on the corner of Farmers boulevard in Linden." "Uh, drug related?" "The usual." I don't mean this in a disrespectful way But Columbine happens in the ghetto every day When the sh** goes down y'all ain't got nothing to say [Verse 1] He kicked the old lady's door in, threw her on the floor Choked her to d**h so she don't scream no more He need some white chocolate, he feel it in his bones He heard she refinanced and got a bank loan He used to mow the lawn, take the garbage out Now she in the closet wit a sock in her mouth Copped a chain, copped some crills Crack pipe in his windpipe, twistin like a drill Run around frontin, buyin his mens kicks Ga**ed a broad up so she can help her rent a whip The other k**er peeped him out flashin a knot A well known murderer, check the ill plot Call up Corey Buns, get him on the block n***as gotta eat, plus he front alot He came through, straight strip search He said I'm comin back, and I'mma put in work n***as told him, ayo leave that sh** alone But pride mixed with crack, had him in a zone Prepared for more sh** than Depends Eyes bloodshot through a Cardier lens n***as said Buns came through lookin strange Yeah, Buns won't stay in his lane Aight, Buns want ghetto fame And caught two in the Ukraine at point blank range It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide [8X] I don't mean this in a disrespectful way But Columbine happens in the ghetto every day When the sh** goes down y'all ain't got nothing to say [Verse 2] Jamaician cat, real treacherous Used to smuggle burners up from Texas Had the ill crib out in Rosedale Took the money from the trunk and copped a fishscale Chinese Jamacian, real pretty n***a Love puffin blunts, throwin bodies in the river One of the illest n***as that the world ever saw Used to take loaded nines and throw 'em on the floor He was from Brooklyn, and I don't know the block I met him at the flicks he commented on my rocks We rolled back to back, while I was slingin raps He was slingin crack, I was seventeen fascinated by the stacks Runnin with dangerous n***as and packin gats Uh, the sh** thrill me, lookin so clean, and livin so filthy I heard his right hand man disappeared They found his bike in the street somewhere Conspiracy theories, n***as talkin sh** Small world, I was close to his right hand man's chick She kept beepin him he never called back When they found him in the trunk his body was jet black Pretty Jamacian kept doin his thing Him and his older brother got caught up in a sting Out on bail, pressure by the feds, he caught seven in the head What goes around, comes back around n***a rest in peace when they lay ya down [Radio transmission] "Uh, central, your a**istance is requested we have a major crisis here Mrs. Winthrop's cat is stuck in a tree." "Roger, a squad car is on the way." It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide[4X] I don't mean this in a disrespectful way But Columbine happens in the ghetto every day When this sh** goes down y'all ain't got nothing to say [Radio transmission] "Central, the cat has been rescued." [Verse 3] In the ghetto black men are dying at alarming rates Walkin the street is like entering a sweepstakes You never know if you gon win or lose We walk around feelin confused and totally abused Can't front, I'mma millionaire livin like a king Still feenin for that shrimp, fried rice and chicken wings Still feenin for the vibe, only the ghetto bring Pumpin songs of pain only real n***as sing Queens finest, but there's one minus The bodies on the battlefield that got left behind us I'm sick and tired of going to wakes Cuz n***as never look the same in the casket It's bugged out, they skin look like plastic I shed tears, but use shades to mask it "Mr. Media", where was you at when my man died When it was cla**ified a drug related homicide It's like until the k**er hit the suburbs I ain't hear nothing, not a word "Mr. Media", help us shed light on these homicides Not just Columbine, but all the time It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide[8X]