Tonalité : B minor
Verse 1
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This for my man yo...
word up
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[Radio transmission] "I got a 187 on the corner of
Verse 2
Farmers
boulevard in Linden."
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"Uh, drug related?"
Verse 3
"The usual."
Bm
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I don't mean this in a disrespectful way
Bm
But Columbine happens in the
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Bm
ghetto every day
When the shit goes down y'all
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Bm
aint got nothing to say
Verse 4
Bm
[Verse 1] He kicked
the old lady's door in,
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Bm
threw her on the floor
Choked her to death so she
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don't scream no more
He need some white chocolate,
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he feel it in his bones
He heard she refinanced and got
a bank loan
He used to mow the lawn,
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take the garbage out
Bm
Now she in the closet wit a
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sock in her mouth
Copped a chain,
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copped some crills
Crack pipe in his windpipe,
twistin like a drill
Run around frontin,
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buyin his mens kicks
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Gassed a broad up so she can help
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her rent a whip
The other killer peeped him
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out flashin a knot
A well known murderer, check the ill plot
Call up Corey Buns,
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get him on the block
Bm
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Niggas gotta eat, plus he front alot
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He came through, straight strip search
He said I'm comin back,
and I'ma put in work
Niggas told him,
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ayo leave that shit alone
But pride mixed with crack,
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had him in a zone
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Prepared for more shit than De pends
Eyes bloodshot through a Cardier lens
Niggas said Buns came
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through lookin strange
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Yeah, Buns won't stay in his lane
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Aight, Buns want ghetto fame
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And caught two in the Ukraine at point
blank range
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Verse 5
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It's
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a, Homicide,
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just a Homicide [8X]
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I don't mean this in a disrespectful way But
Verse 6
Bm
Columbine happens in
the ghetto every day
A
When the shit goes down y'all
Bm
aint got nothing to say
Verse 7
Bm
[Verse 2]
A
Jamaician cat, real treacherous
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Used to smuggle burners up from Texas
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Had the ill crib out in Rosedale
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Took the money from the trunk
and copped a fishscale
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Chinese Jamacian, real pretty nigga
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Love puffin blunts,
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throwin bodies in the river
D
A
One of the illest niggas that
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the world ever saw
Used to take loaded nines and throw
'em on the floor
He was from Brooklyn,
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and I don't know the block
Bm
I met him at the flicks he commented
on my rocks
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We rolled back to back,
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while I was slingin raps
He was slingin crack,
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I was seventeen fascinated by the stacks
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Runnin with dangerous nig
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gas and packin gats
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Uh, the shit thrill me, lookin so clean,
and livin so filthy
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I heard his right hand man disappeared
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They found his bike in the
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street somewhere
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Conspiracy theories, niggas talkin shit
Small world, I was close to his right
hand man's chick
She kept beepin him
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he never called back
When they found him in the trunk
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Bm
his body was jet black
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Pretty Jamacian kept doin his thing
Him and his older brother got
caught up in a sting
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Out on bail, pressure by the feds,
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he caught seven in the head
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What goes around, comes back around
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Nigga rest in peace when they lay
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ya down
Verse 8
[Radio transmission] "Uh, central,
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your assistance is requested we have a major crisis here
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Mrs. Winthrop's cat is
stuck in a tree."
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Bm
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"Roger, a squad car is
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on the way."
Bm
It's
Verse 9
a, Homicide,
just a Homicide [4X]
A
I don't mean this in a disrespectful way But
Verse 10
Bm
Columbine happens in
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Bm
the ghetto every day
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When this shit goes down y'all aint got
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nothing to say
[Radio transmission] "Central, the cat has been
rescued."
Verse 11
[Verse 3]
Bm
In the ghetto black men are dy
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ing at alarming rates
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Walkin the street is like entering
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a sweepstakes
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You never know if you gon win or lose
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We walk around feelin confused
and totally abused
Can't front,
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I'ma millionaire livin like a king
Bm
Still feenin for that shrimp,
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fried rice and chicken wings
Still feenin for the vibe,
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only the ghetto bring
Pumpin songs of pain only
real niggas sing
Queens finest,
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Bm
but there's one minus
The bodies on the battlefield
that got left behind us
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I'm sick and tired of going to wakes
Bm
Cuz niggas never look the same
in the casket
It's bugged out,
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they skin look like plastic
Bm
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I shed tears, but use shades to mask it
Bm
"Mr. Media",
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where was you at when my man died
When it was classified a drug
related homicide
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It's like until the killer hit the suburbs
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I aint hear nothing, not a word
Bm
"Mr. Media",
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help us shed light on these hom icides
Not just Columbine,
but all the time
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Verse 12
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It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide [8X]
Bm
Outro 1
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