Mr. Lopez

[Verse 1] They were scheming on the corner of the block It was Ray, Killa J, Flip, Ricky, and Little Portaroc Devising a plan to take Mr. Lopez for his loot and shoot to kill if somebody get cute They starving in the ghetto, know there's armour and your metal When you're fatherless and settle for the garbage in the ghetto It's too many days of being broke that'll invoke greed Wanna forget the problems, that's why they smoke weed The plot went down for the chosen spot, forget if he was old or not Then get him when he close the shop Tie him up in the back and open the cash register Give the keys to the safe, puto, we blast lead at you Mr. Lopez crying begging for his life remembering his wife When his soul was headed for the flight Somebody deaded all the the lights and then the shots popped off Before you know it cops got the block blocked off [Hook] Mr. Lopez got shot (Bloodshed in Brooklyn) Police tape off, start the investigation Five suspects under an interrogation You're guilty until you're proven innocent Mr. Lopez got shot last night (Five Hispanic men) They know who did it but nobody's gonna say a word It don't matter cause they'll never get their prayers heard Street life bring the Devil out of desire [Verse 2] Mr. Lopez dead on the cold floor They were sure they'd score and take over the whole store Confidence turns the guilt to confusion Too much thug shit has built an illusion The question reigns, what infected their brains? To relent with pain for a collection of change Stress, rage, depression gets strange Sick in their head, their perception's deranged Heavenly need turns to envy and greed On the floor screaming till they get him to bleed He watched them grow up and buy candy from the store And them slide when their mom couldn't afford The demon and the dollar, the gun is possessed Destroy life and family, such a bloody mess Dreams where his dying life went Dead for forty dollars and ninety-five cents [Interlude] Mr. Lopez got shot Oh God, I'm dying *repeated* [Outro] Six hands carry, six hands let go Watch the dollar bill in the street increase the death toll Death means everything and it can mean nothing Especially when someone's in your way and you need something Could you honestly say Mr. Lopez got what he deserved? All the unnecessary pain to me seems absurd So uncalled for, what's it all for? So uncalled for, what's it all for?