Murder of a Teenage Life

Man, what was the young blood name? Funk Crush Young blood just hungry It's no glamour, it's no glory It's no joke no game It's murder everyday, murder (Boogeyman) (They shot the boy!) The murder of a teenage life Fire from the cold steel, the heat from the brights The temperature of flesh and the shortness of breath The murder of a teenage threat The aroma of sinsemilia dollar superstar Scum of vicodin cocaine tobacco leaf Ecstatic tap-less fire water and freaky-deeky-e The murder of a teenage chief My easy speaking is easy as it seem to be Hungry belly drama busts off easily Balloon bang, pop, hot as a bang spot in Bangkok Colder than a pimp Glock, aim shot the frame drops Pressure pushed him to the earth like a rain drop Take not life in vain, now how the preacher was saying Remember anyway they laid him in the straight box Dark suit and gray socks the neighborhood is all distraught Candle lights upon the news report the families and students saw Confused in awe, they weep into each others' arms It's murder New absence from a mother's arm Even the warmth from the mother's arms Could not keep her son from harm From standing where the gun was drawn Over come done and done he gone, murder Shell like a bell that rung The blood burst body temperature fell and plunged And then the time it took the medics to come The breath eased out of his lungs And his soul eased out of the slums And the voice eased out of the drums The sireens they gleam they swung, murder Telephone wire sneakers hung, murder For the black and young, murder, and the Ave they from I am from the block the president did not campaign on Where the dollar that the working poor slave for is made on Where hustlers stretch the yay long Hustle hard for an outpost to trade on Flip it over and make more Where the blocks are yellow taped off Young bloods is trained off for obese to gray zone Where the pressure just stay on But the lights and the heat don't The place where you witness the true power of street folk And that's where I'm coming from people High post low key eighth oz and kilo Law man dope man adversary amigo Preacher man pimp hand both folding their C-notes A black fist clutching deliverance for the people Young hand reach out, strong hand reach in Chop the devil's hand to make the fucker stop reaching Ghetto people know when the voice of true speaking M-Def, and foreal hold still nigga seein' I ain't got to say please, just believe it The unerasable the black ink fact Y'all fuckers know exactly how to act get back Forever black (forever black) never wack (never that) From the K (Killa K) that's that (that's that) So you can kill all the yap, murder They shot the boy (3x) They kill 'em all