[Verse 1] 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 alot
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 De pends
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
[Verse 2]
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 nig
gas 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
[Verse 3]
In the ghetto black men are dy
ing at alarming rates
Walkin the street is like entering
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 going 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 aint hear nothing, not a word
"Mr. Media",
help us shed light on these hom icides
Not just Columbine,
but all the time
Ll Cool J 
