Mr. Lopez - Q-Unique

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

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

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

Mr. Lopez got shot

Oh God, I’m dying *repeated*

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?