His name was Rasool
Caramel-complected boy from the 22
Rough on the outside, but inside, he was cool
Rasool was a king, but also a fool
Back on the block again with the same crew
Tariq from the west side
Little John from the avenue
Always seen 'em about a quarter to two
Shaking hands with everybody
But at the same time sharing the blues
And oh, he passed it on
Shaking hands till what was in his pockets was gone
He'd be outside in the cold with his bubble goose on
But inside, somehow I knew he wasn't warm
Around 10:30 on that dreary night
His boys said they were hungry, wanted to get a bite
But they didn't send a runner, Rasool knew it wasn't right
But he stayed anyway trying to get the chain he liked
And oh how the shots rang in the streets
Hitting everybody in the surrounding vicinity
Children of children, one young father-to-be
And Rasool lay dead in my north Philly Street
At fifteen years old, it was the first death I'd seen
But in years to come, there'd be many many
Brothers slain tryin' to win at the game
But the game ain't designed for no kind of winning
And oh this is a friend of Rasool begging you
To think about what you do and who you call your crew
The very choices you make may make a Rasool out of you
Now you don't want that, do you?
You don't want that, do you?
Do you?
Do you?
You don't want that
You don't want that
You don't want that
You don't want that