Murder of a Teenage LifeYasiin Bey

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