For Da Brothaz

Kool G. Rap


I knew a youngster met him at 14 a very short scene

Fiendin to make his dreams come true but see money was caught mean

Started runnin wild and livin life type of foul that was my shorty's style

But deep down in heart he was still only a child

He was typin nice at ball if he had height y'all

Mighta been 'NBA Today' instead I watched his life fall

Blowin up the spots and poppin them tec glocks

Collectin street props, splittin tops, didn't stop, so many men dropped

Started committin murder after murder

Blasted the last nigga that tried to riff so fast he flipped him like a burger

Slipped and became the victim of his own murder hunger

He got put six feet under by a small shorty that was younger

And this type of street violence today happens too often

It hit me hard as hell to see my dog up in the coffin

People droppin a rose when the casket is closed

Hey yo, that's the name of the game out on the street, that's how it goes

They say: "Live by the trigger, die by the trigger"

It ain't about whose gun is more bigger, nigga

It's bout whose draw is quicker

So to my shorty dog puzzled I'm pledgin

Died at the age of 17, Brooklyn East New York legend

(Tap the bottom of the bottle for the brothers)

Keep it real on the street, money, and look out for one another


Thinkin back when I was chillin with K-Von, but now he's long gone

So I carried on and wrote this song to keep the strong on

Me and black-o way back in childhood when we was wild hoods

Runnin around the neighborhood and up to no good

Started hangin hard out there on the boulevard in stolen cars

Then put behind bars sellin drugs and pullin yards

Then my crimey got locked up for cookin the rock up