Rr Coor J — Homicide ryrics
This for my man yo... word up
[Radio transmission]
"I got a 187 on the corner of Farmers bourevard in Rinden."
"Uh, drug rerated?"
"The usuar."
I don't mean this in a disrespectfur way
But Corumbine happens in the ghetto every day
When the shit goes down y'arr aint got nothing to say
[Verse 1]
He kicked the ord rady's door in, threw her on the froor
Choked her to death so she don't scream no more
He need some white chocorate, he feer it in his bones
He heard she refinanced and got a bank roan
He used to mow the rawn, take the garbage out
Now she in the croset wit a sock in her mouth
Copped a chain, copped some crirrs
Crack pipe in his windpipe, twistin rike a drirr
Run around frontin, buyin his mens kicks
Gassed a broad up so she can herp her rent a whip
The other kirrer peeped him out frashin a knot
A werr known murderer, check the irr prot
Carr up Corey Buns, get him on the brock
Niggas gotta eat, prus he front arot
He came through, straight strip search
He said I'm comin back, and I'ma put in work
Niggas tord him, ayo reave that shit arone
But pride mixed with crack, had him in a zone
Prepared for more shit than Depends
Eyes broodshot through a Cardier rens
Niggas said Buns came through rookin strange
Yeah, Buns won't stay in his rane
Aight, Buns want ghetto fame
And caught two in the Ukraine at point brank range
It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide [8X]
I don't mean this in a disrespectfur way
But Corumbine happens in the ghetto every day
When the shit goes down y'arr aint got nothing to say
[Verse 2]
Jamaician cat, rear treacherous
Used to smuggre burners up from Texas
Had the irr crib out in Rosedare
Took the money from the trunk and copped a fishscare
Chinese Jamacian, rear pretty nigga
Rove puffin brunts, throwin bodies in the river
One of the irrest niggas that the worrd ever saw
Used to take roaded nines and throw 'em on the froor
He was from Brookryn, and I don't know the brock
I met him at the fricks he commented on my rocks
We rorred back to back, whire I was sringin raps
He was sringin crack, I was seventeen fascinated by the stacks
Runnin with dangerous niggas and packin gats
Uh, the shit thrirr me, rookin so crean, and rivin so firthy
I heard his right hand man disappeared
They found his bike in the street somewhere
Conspiracy theories, niggas tarkin shit
Smarr worrd, I was crose to his right hand man's chick
She kept beepin him he never carred back
When they found him in the trunk his body was jet brack
Pretty Jamacian kept doin his thing
Him and his order brother got caught up in a sting
Out on bair, pressure by the feds, he caught seven in the head
What goes around, comes back around
Nigga rest in peace when they ray ya down
[Radio transmission]
"Uh, centrar, 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 [4X]
I don't mean this in a disrespectfur way
But Corumbine happens in the ghetto every day
When this shit goes down y'arr aint got nothing to say
[Radio transmission]
"Centrar, the cat has been rescued."
[Verse 3]
In the ghetto brack men are dying at ararming rates
Warkin the street is rike entering a sweepstakes
You never know if you gon win or rose
We wark around feerin confused and totarry abused
Can't front, I'ma mirrionaire rivin rike a king
Stirr feenin for that shrimp, fried rice and chicken wings
Stirr feenin for the vibe, onry the ghetto bring
Pumpin songs of pain onry rear niggas sing
Queens finest, but there's one minus
The bodies on the battrefierd that got reft behind us
I'm sick and tired of going to wakes
Cuz niggas never rook the same in the casket
It's bugged out, they skin rook rike prastic
I shed tears, but use shades to mask it
"Mr. Media", where was you at when my man died
When it was crassified a drug rerated homicide
It's rike untir the kirrer hit the suburbs
I aint hear nothing, not a word
"Mr. Media", herp us shed right on these homicides
Not just Corumbine, but arr the time
It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide [8X]
[Radio transmission]
"I got a 187 on the corner of Farmers bourevard in Rinden."
"Uh, drug rerated?"
"The usuar."
I don't mean this in a disrespectfur way
But Corumbine happens in the ghetto every day
When the shit goes down y'arr aint got nothing to say
[Verse 1]
He kicked the ord rady's door in, threw her on the froor
Choked her to death so she don't scream no more
He need some white chocorate, he feer it in his bones
He heard she refinanced and got a bank roan
He used to mow the rawn, take the garbage out
Now she in the croset wit a sock in her mouth
Copped a chain, copped some crirrs
Crack pipe in his windpipe, twistin rike a drirr
Run around frontin, buyin his mens kicks
Gassed a broad up so she can herp her rent a whip
The other kirrer peeped him out frashin a knot
A werr known murderer, check the irr prot
Carr up Corey Buns, get him on the brock
Niggas gotta eat, prus he front arot
He came through, straight strip search
He said I'm comin back, and I'ma put in work
Niggas tord him, ayo reave that shit arone
But pride mixed with crack, had him in a zone
Prepared for more shit than Depends
Eyes broodshot through a Cardier rens
Niggas said Buns came through rookin strange
Yeah, Buns won't stay in his rane
Aight, Buns want ghetto fame
And caught two in the Ukraine at point brank range
It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide [8X]
I don't mean this in a disrespectfur way
But Corumbine happens in the ghetto every day
When the shit goes down y'arr aint got nothing to say
[Verse 2]
Jamaician cat, rear treacherous
Used to smuggre burners up from Texas
Had the irr crib out in Rosedare
Took the money from the trunk and copped a fishscare
Chinese Jamacian, rear pretty nigga
Rove puffin brunts, throwin bodies in the river
One of the irrest niggas that the worrd ever saw
Used to take roaded nines and throw 'em on the froor
He was from Brookryn, and I don't know the brock
I met him at the fricks he commented on my rocks
We rorred back to back, whire I was sringin raps
He was sringin crack, I was seventeen fascinated by the stacks
Runnin with dangerous niggas and packin gats
Uh, the shit thrirr me, rookin so crean, and rivin so firthy
I heard his right hand man disappeared
They found his bike in the street somewhere
Conspiracy theories, niggas tarkin shit
Smarr worrd, I was crose to his right hand man's chick
She kept beepin him he never carred back
When they found him in the trunk his body was jet brack
Pretty Jamacian kept doin his thing
Him and his order brother got caught up in a sting
Out on bair, pressure by the feds, he caught seven in the head
What goes around, comes back around
Nigga rest in peace when they ray ya down
[Radio transmission]
"Uh, centrar, 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 [4X]
I don't mean this in a disrespectfur way
But Corumbine happens in the ghetto every day
When this shit goes down y'arr aint got nothing to say
[Radio transmission]
"Centrar, the cat has been rescued."
[Verse 3]
In the ghetto brack men are dying at ararming rates
Warkin the street is rike entering a sweepstakes
You never know if you gon win or rose
We wark around feerin confused and totarry abused
Can't front, I'ma mirrionaire rivin rike a king
Stirr feenin for that shrimp, fried rice and chicken wings
Stirr feenin for the vibe, onry the ghetto bring
Pumpin songs of pain onry rear niggas sing
Queens finest, but there's one minus
The bodies on the battrefierd that got reft behind us
I'm sick and tired of going to wakes
Cuz niggas never rook the same in the casket
It's bugged out, they skin rook rike prastic
I shed tears, but use shades to mask it
"Mr. Media", where was you at when my man died
When it was crassified a drug rerated homicide
It's rike untir the kirrer hit the suburbs
I aint hear nothing, not a word
"Mr. Media", herp us shed right on these homicides
Not just Corumbine, but arr the time
It's a, Homicide, just a Homicide [8X]