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Download from amazon.com Murder Of A Teenage Life lyrics

Rating: 2.78
Song Details
Artist(s)
  • Mos Def
  • Album(s)
  • True Magic (buy)
  • 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 sesamilia Dollar Superstar
    Skama like a new cocaine tobacco leaf
    Ecstatic tabernists fire water and freaks
    The murder of a teenage chief
    My easy speaking is as easy as it seems to be
    Hungry belly jamma 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 vein
    And how the preacher was saying
    Remember!
    Anyways they laid him in a stray box
    Dark suit and gray socks
    The neighborhood is all distraught
    Candles lit the stoop at the park
    Where the family and students are
    Confused, in awe
    They gape into each others arms
    IT’S MURDER!
    New absence from a mothers arm
    Even the warmth from the mother’s arms
    Couldn’t keep her son from harm
    From standing where the gun was drawn
    Over come, done and done. He’s gone…
    MURDER!
    Shells fell like a bell that rung
    Blood bursts, body temperature fell and plunged
    And by 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 sirens through their ears, they sung
    MURDER!
    Telephone wire, sneakers hung
    MURDER!
    For the Black and young
    MURDER!!!!!!!!!!!
    And the Aves 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
    And hustle hard for an outpost to trade on
    Flip it over and make more
    Where the blocks are yellow taped off
    Where the young blood is trained on Obese to the Fakesoft
    Where the pressure just stays 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, o-z, 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
    Slap the devil’s hand to make the fucker stop reaching

    All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners.