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  • Текст песни Ll Cool J - Homicide

    Исполнитель: Ll Cool J
    Название песни: Homicide
    Дата добавления: 29.09.2023 | 16:10:10
    Просмотров: 1
    0 чел. считают текст песни верным
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    На этой странице находится текст песни Ll Cool J - Homicide, а также перевод песни и видео или клип.

    Кто круче?

    или
    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 why'all ain't got nothing 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, twisting like a drill
    Run around fronting, buying his men's kicks
    Gassed a broad up so she can help her rent a whip
    The other killer peeped him out flashing 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 coming back, and I'ma put in work
    Niggas told him, hey yo, 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 looking 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 why'all ain't got nothing to say

    Jamaican 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 fish scale
    Chinese Jamaican, real pretty nigga
    Love puffin blunts, throwing 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 slinging raps
    He was slinging crack, I was seventeen fascinated by the stacks
    Running with dangerous niggas and packing gats
    Uh, the shit thrill me, looking so clean, and living so filthy
    I heard his right hand man disappeared
    They found his bike in the street somewhere
    Conspiracy theories, niggas talking shit
    Small world, I was close to his right hand man's chick
    She kept beeping him he never called back
    When they found him in the trunk his body was jet black
    Pretty Jamaican kept doing 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, 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 nothing to say

    "Central, the cat has been rescued."

    In the ghetto black men are dying at alarming rates
    Walking the street is like entering a sweepstakes
    You never know if you goin' win or lose
    We walk around feeling confused and totally abused
    Can't front, I'ma millionaire living like a king
    Still feigning for that shrimp, fried rice and chicken wings
    Still feigning for the vibe, only the ghetto bring
    Pumping 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 going to wakes
    'cause 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 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
    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
    Я устал от того, чтобы побудить
    Потому что ниггеры никогда не выглядят одинаково в шкатулке
    Это истекает, они похожи на пластик
    Я пролил слезы, но использую оттенки, чтобы замаскировать их
    "Мистер СМИ", где ты был, когда умер мой мужчина
    Когда это было классифицировано, убийство, связанное с наркотиками
    Это как до тех пор, пока убийца не попадет в пригород
    Я ничего не слышу, ни слова
    «Мистер СМИ», помогите нам пролить свет на эти убийства
    Не только Колумбин, но все время

    Это убийство, просто убийство
    Это убийство, просто убийство
    Это убийство, просто убийство
    Это убийство, просто убийство
    Это убийство, просто убийство
    Это убийство, просто убийство
    Это убийство, просто убийство
    Это убийство, просто убийство

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