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?