| Lyrics: | [Tek]
This is the story of a place, that we call home
Where the kids pack heat when it's
time to roam
Everybody's on the scramble, life's a gamble
Hoppin on the white horse, tryin
to get a handle
On the fast pace that we call the last race
Step wit precaution when you
enter this place
We got a spot on every block that makes ya dreams come true
Just come
correct wit the snapses or ya doo
Don't come cryin broke, still tryin to cop the dope
What
parts of no, do not you understand bro
We can't afford to take shorts or be playing
sports
Empires need to be built, mack 10's bought
Or even caught for them deceased ass
hustlers
And we still got the pound for ya living muthafuckas
What goes around comes back to
the roots
See you at the revolution and Crooklyn, true
[Chorus]
We live in Brooklyn
baby
We try to make it baby
We gonna make it baby
We live in Brooklyn
baby
[Steele]
Another day, another dollar dead
Pigs rushin the crib to catch a
collar now I'm fed
What the face now, me and my people's taste crown
Stayin face down, while
K-9's sniffs around
What they found was irrelevant, the weed cuz
They was sent to represent
and cause a ruckus amongst us
Now I got more pigs rushin we, handcuffin me
Takin hold of we,
in the custody
For blushin in, rasta boy restin in peace
After going through the bullshit,
we in release
To hit the streets, where the war still off for all of y'all
Cuz they kept
rule locked behind the wall
No time at all, no fake, no jacks
Perhaps when the gat spins,
niggas won't even know what happen
I'll be glad when my man come home
Cuz in the zone
muthafuckas grab ya chrome
[Chorus (with Tek shoutin out)]
[T |
