Homicide Lyrics - G.o.a.t. - Ll Cool J

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 

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