Love and a Bullet

My name is Malik Bishop
and I'm a professional hit man.

Until a month ago,
I was the hardest, coldest bastard...

:01:09 screw a silencer on a pistol.
I know what you're thinking:
"What kind of a moral existence is that?

"Professional hit man."
The way I see it, the world is full of people that,
quite frankly, we all could do without.

Some will argue that I'm one of them,
but I digress.

I would say that I was a custodian
of anthropological refuse.

Meaning, I kill motherfuckers that are worthless.
Which leads me to my current dilemma.
That's my target, Cynda Griffie.
Kind of cute, huh?

So, check this: 7:00 a.m.,
she does 30 minutes on the treadmill...

...followed by yoga, then a hot bath.
Me? I do 30 minutes of shadowboxing
followed by calisthenics...

...watching her take a hot bath.
You can see by now that I'm one of those,
what you call, complex black men.

Yeah, that's right, I'm complex.
But don't get it twisted.

I'm not like one of those Eric Benet,
open-toe-sandal-wearin', poetry-recitin'...

...Jill-Scott-listenin'-to, latte-drinkin',
not-afraid-to-cry, snob motherfuckers.

I'm somethin' different.
10:00 p.m., she's writin' in her diary.
I'm writin' in mine.

1 1:00 p.m., she's hittin' the sack. So am I.
For all intents and purposes,
we're like a married couple.

Which is no good,
'cause when the call comes in...

...I'm supposed to take her off
this mortal-fuckin' coil.

And now, I'm havin' doubts.
What the fuck was it?
A momentary bout of consciousness, maybe?

It was a lot more.
I trace it back to when I was doing hits...
...for a loud-mouth rock dealer named...
Frenchy Davis was the number-one employer
of downwardly mobile black youths...

:02:51 the neighborhood.
The area underneath the Sixth Street Bridge
was the corporate headquarters.

And he was always lookin' for new executives.
If I say I wanna motherfucker smoked,
that's just what the fuck I want...