Apologia Ao Crime

I didn’t want to see you on a stretcher, spitting blood, almost dead
In the hospital, with a bunch of bullet wounds, getting IV
Not picking up Pioneer from the Escort
Not tripping over your words, dying from an overdose
Forget the 12-gauge, the pipe, the rich girl full of jewels
I’ve seen, for a buck, a coroner’s scalpel in many junkies
Don’t be just another statistic
A body in the bar, victim of another massacre
It’s messed up knowing that the ads on TV
For cars, a house of your own, weren’t made for you
Knowing that to have rice, beans, chicken in the oven
You gotta grab a piece and disfigure a body
I get the reason, I’m a product of the hood
I know the pain of having nothing in the pot
Of sharing a two-meter room with five
A room without light, water, without a smile
But, bro, crime is pain at the precinct
Shock, loneliness, agony
They give you a .40 with a silencer and scope
So you can tear apart the cash register at the bakery
The grocery store, the pharmacy
So that one day, your family prays your 7th-day mass
The guy with the Rolex, Cherokee with tinted windows
It’s a trap from the system to kill you

Don’t fall for the trap, follow my apology
Even with an empty stomach, forget the rich girl’s jewels
Don’t fall for the trap, follow my apology
Your 7th-day mass is imported on the avenue

Gold chain, brand new car, all an illusion
Flour, baking soda, funeral
I’ve seen many dealers, with a bunch of employees
In BMWs, paying off the cops
Celebrating New Year’s unloading the gun high
Ending up with not a dime, at the soldier’s 12
With rifles, grenades, 9s
No one ever came back with a bag from the armored truck
Always the same end: Mom crying at the coffin
The dude planning a riot in detention
Dog bites, the GOE’s humiliation
Only those inside know the price of killing the guy
I know it’s very little to dream just of food
Who doesn’t want a house with a pool?
A good job instead of eating trash?
An imported car, the latest model, sporty?
But comfort doesn’t come through a revolver
From the blood of the millionaire hostage fearing death
The cop doesn’t care about your reason
Wants your head on the wall, like a slaughtered pig
Doesn’t matter if it’s for your mom’s medicine
To smoke crack or drink champagne
If you invade the condo, shouting robbery
You fell for the trap, even on the ceiling, there’ll be your pieces

Don’t fall for the trap, follow my apology
Even with an empty stomach, forget the rich girl’s jewels
Don’t fall for the trap, follow my apology
Your 7th-day mass is imported on the avenue

They want you turning into a convict, killing rapists
Demanding the governor, the judge, the ombudsman
They want you in an Opala, blasting a bar
Massacre number 300 for SPTV to report
That’s why there’s not one of us in Congress, in the Chamber
Here it’s just thieves in a vegetative state in bed
Or in a wheelchair, shot in the spine
For a pair of sneakers, a line of cocaine

Our lives are worth less than a buck
Here the poor only matter to donate organs in the hospital
That’s why, go to school, try to be an architect
Don’t make the pigs applaud another illiterate junkie
Who beats the old lady to smoke the radio
Rides with dealers and wakes up dismembered
Grab your .380 and make the bank plan
Shoot the security, kick the crying hostage
Grab the bag, empty the safe
Unload your 9 on the manager’s head
Or put on a mailman’s outfit, to fool the doorman
Frame the whole building and steal jewels, money
So by 6 o’clock I see you on City Alert
Handcuffed, with bruises, like a dog, in a cell
The system has to cry, but not with you killing on the street
The system has to cry seeing your graduation!

Don’t fall for the trap, follow my apology
Even with an empty stomach, forget the rich girl’s jewels
Don’t fall for the trap, follow my apology
Your 7th-day mass is imported on the avenue