Lyrics:
look
Old Brooklyn, Putnam Avenue crook, I've been token
All around the world, rooked it then, drive back in Brooklyn
Good looking, son, yo, son,
Grrt
It's an emergency
Pow pow pow
Brooklyn
Grrt Pow
Aye look
Y'all niggas not ready for me
I come from Brooklyn
And over there you got to fight for
Brooklyn! New York City
Cin-ci-natti! Keep on
Talib Kweli-Verse 1:
It's a funky sen-sa-tion ain't it?
I'm havin a conversation wit'cho imagination
It
tryna blow up
Okay look to the north uh
Im a rockstar with a cause
Had a pause from being awesome
By any means get ya bread bro, nah
pause dawg you gone
tryna blow up
Okay look to the north uh
Im a rockstar with a cause
Had a pause from being awesome
By any means get ya bread bro, nah
pause dawg you gone
laugh at yer look
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something
He said let me take a look at this, we've got a situation
Left us with a crooked mess, how can we clean this up
Breaking down the brooklyn bridge, burn
and then Mary go, round
I just ride, holed her down with the fifth by my side
Me and miss Blige
Look up in the sky it's a bird a that came
In the hydro
the fifth by my side
Me and miss Blige
Look up in the sky it's a bird and the 'caine
And the hydro flow that I brought to the game
I could go mo' but I'm
[Lil Dap (of Group Home)]
Hmm, hmm
About 12 O'Clock Brooklyn when this shit took place
Fake niggas on the ground, fakin moves in BK
Yo they coming
the trenches
Score on the ops by my self bitch my finish relentless
Get up wit me like a nigga lost his vertical
AR bullets rip yo skin he he look surgical
They
The younger me would probably think I was soft
But I look back at them days and I know I was lost, uh
Living life without a care in the world
So, how could I
the tabernacle by his Adam's apple!
And suddenly, the angels, of death will hang you!
The power, whippings, by matters, of degrees
Calcium absorbed, by evil
are heartless
Absolving artists, through ya fire and sparklers
Drag him down, in the tabernacle by his Adam's apple!
And suddenly, the angels,
get your wife took
She'd rather be with me I can tell it just by the look
Been living by the book
Pharaoh in the big city
I don't survive I thrive I
Yeah! Pussies don't get pussy
Brooklyn (uh-huh)
Kinda short, dark-skinned, she a fly lil' bitch
Be up in all them clubs spillin Dom P and shit
Brooklyn
Born and bred Brooklyn, USA
They call me Adam Yauch, but I'm MCA
Well like a lemon to a lime
A lime to a lemon
I sip the def ale with all the fly
look
Old Brooklyn, Putnam Avenue crook, I've been token
All around the world, rooked it then, drive back in Brooklyn
Good looking, son, yo, son,
the castle
Used to have a Motorola then I bought an Apple
You in love with the city
I like roads of gravel
Getting lost in your thoughts
Only half the battle
F.A.B.L.E. we was getting jipped by these promoter thieves
Lord my life would change when I met Hadee
All this Chicago haters city ish just went out the window
from a wire
Tis the Season
Angelic song from a holy choir
before too long its time to retire
Tis the season
I look around at the bouts of holly
a savage master
Fuckin on the pussy by a tabernacle
Yea a master in whatever and a savage after
Fee come by the weather not the next week after
If a nigga
ain't know if I'd see daddy no more
By the time I was seven, we all moved out to the city
Southside, Minneap-, you know these trenches is gritty
Only
right now
Oh no
And it's okay to look forward
Especially when you're going through the tough times
Sometimes only takes one rhyme
To make a breakthrough
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