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- Singer Intro
LL COOL J( James Todd Smith )
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Homicide
Lyricist:Carlos Guedes, James Todd Smith, George Spivey
This for my man yo, word up '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 shit goes down y'all ain't got nothin' to say
He kicked the old lady's door in, threw her on the floor Choked her to death 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 Gassed a broad up so she can help her rent a whip The other killer peeped him out flashin' a knot A well known murderer, check the ill plot
Call up Corey Buns, get him on the block Niggas gotta eat, plus he front a lot He came through, straight strip search He said I'm comin' back and I'ma put in work
Niggas told him, ayo leave that shit alone But pride mixed with crack, had him in a zone Prepared for more shit than Depends Eyes bloodshot through a Cardier lens
Niggas 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 It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide
It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide
I don't mean this in a disrespectful way But Columbine happens in the ghetto every day When the shit goes down y'all ain't got nothin' to say
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 nigga Love puffin' blunts, throwin' bodies in the river One of the illest niggas 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 Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
Runnin' with dangerous niggas and packin' gats Uh, the shit 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, niggas talkin' shit 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 Nigga rest in peace when they lay ya down
'Uh, central, officer, your assistance 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 It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide
I don't mean this in a disrespectful way But Columbine happens in the ghetto every day When this shit goes down y'all ain't got nothin' to say
'Central, the cat has been rescued'
In the ghetto black men are dyin' at alarmin' rates Walkin' the street is like enterin' a sweepstakes You never know if you gon win or lose We walk around feelin confused and totally abused
Can't front, I'ma 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 niggas sing
Queens finest, but there's one minus The bodies on the battlefield that got left behind us I'm sick and tired of goin' to wakes 'Cuz niggas 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 classified a drug related homicide
It's like until the killer hit the suburbs I ain't hear nothin', 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 It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide
IIt's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide It's a, homicide, just a homicide
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