In The Words Of Ja Rule : "It's Murdaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Scene One: I opened up my eyes and I couldn’t believe what I’d done
It hurt to see the blood on my shirt so I wiped my sleeve on my gun
Why didn’t he run? I didn’t understand it, I mean he knew I was crazy
Did he think I’d cut back and give him slack cause I knew he had a baby?
Maybe, but he should have thought about how vicious my wrist was
Connected to my trigger finger, before he dissed us and dismissed love
He should’ve put nothing above, the relationship him and my sis shared
He wasn’t prepared, but he stole my sis’s heart, so I made his disappear
It’s crystal clear, it’s all his fault he shouldn’t have pretended to feel so true
He made my sis feel blue, so before I shot him I choked him and made him blue too
Scene Two: We argued before the shooting and I was worried someone heard us
Because now I was at his funeral service and I was feeling more than nervous
I felt I had a purpose, as if I still had some sort of mission to complete
We were on opposite ends of the spectrum so things exploded when ends meet
People were friendly, although they seemed to ignore me, figured I was safe
But only if they knew that it was me that put that piece of lead through his face
Then came the shakes, I thought it was a quake but no one felt it but me
It started as just a leisure seizure then my body just seemed to turn up the heat
Scene Three: I looked down and saw that I was strapped to a hospital stretcher
Then we passed a calendar and it showed that this was the end of November
In the back of my mind I thought, wasn’t the funeral service held in December?
Someone checked my temperature, I didn’t hear a number but I knew it was low
Because ever since I opened my eyes I was feeling cold, I’m out of control
Then I heard a moan, I looked around, took me a second to realize it came from me
Then things came plain to me, and with that I closed my eyes and fell asleep
Scene Four: Now I’m back at the church and I see familiar faces driving the hearse
I see folks wearing shirts with murals of people showing dates of death and birth
I felt I was cursed, I already figured everything out, no sound came from my mouth
But I wish I could shout, then the doors opened up and my little son walked out
He was about, 8 years old, even though he was my big boy his tears still flowed
They were uncontrolled, but he would always remain a vital part of my soul
The other half to make me whole, I should’ve known that I was being stupid
I felt useless, I was shot through the heart but it wasn’t by Cupid.
Who knew it? I never thought that a murder/suicide was considered murder selfishly
I reached out to hug my son, and dropped to my knees when he walked through me

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