Wanted to get a bite, now they didn't send a runner
Tryin' to win at the game
Children of children, one young father to be
Rasool knew it wasn't right
Shakin' hands till what was in his pockets was gone
At fifteen years old, it was the first death I'd seen
But the game ain't designed for no kind of winning
Hittin' everybody in the surrounding vicinity
He'd be outside in the cold with his bubble goose on
But he stayed anyway tryin' to get the chain he liked
Back on the block again with the same crew
Ohh, how the shots rang in the streets
You don't want that
Now you don't want that, do you?
Always seen 'em 'bout a quarter to two
Rasool was a king but also a fool
But at the same time sharin' the blues
Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you?
You don't want that
And Rasool lay dead on my North Philly street
Oh this is a friend of Rasool, begging you to think about
But inside somehow, I knew he wasn't warm
You don't want that, do you?
Tariq from the west side, little John from the Avenue
The very choices you make, may make a Rasool out of you
His boys said they were hungry
What you do and who you call your crew
But in years to come there'd be many many brothers slained
You don't want that
And ohh he passed it on
Around ten thirty on that dreary night
Rough on the outside but inside he was cool
Shakin' hands with everybody
