Back To Brooklyn

Uhh, yeah

Markie Dee and the Soul Convention

Ninety-one to ninety-two

Ninety-two, ninety-three

So on, et cetera et cetera

HanSoul and the Regulators

Crazy Keith, here we go, check it

One time

Champion hoodie, saggin'-ass Levi's and my Timbs

Brooklyn hat pulled low, chewin' on a peppermint stem stick

Kickin {shit} with the head gassed hoes

They want to piece of this and so do my foes, yeah

I gotta watch my back, when I walk the streets at night

And on my nine my hand grips tight

Really don't trust nobody, to the point

that if I get a little lip I will reach for my joint

You want to head up, nah son, my hands ain't gotta feel

No need to show my skills, blast and I'm outta here

So save you cryin' for the boys in blue

Get your story straight chump, even if it's true

It'll all be changed when you get to the precinct

Your case is history, worth about three cents

So if you don't want beef, you better stop lookin

'Cause I'm a take your ass back to Brooklyn

{*scratching: "Born and raised in the streets of Brooklyn"*}

Yeah

It's about 3 A.M., I'm on (?) Ave.

I got my toolie and a stack of cash

I never had a problem with the dollar thirty forty

Cause I was makin' moves like Fat Cat and Corley

A hustler and a killer, Mark was a smooth don

Always had jewels but never got moved on

Bodies layin' decomposin' and decayin'

You never should of {fucked} with Mark, and now you're layin'

in the {motherfuckin'} burial ground

Cause you wasn't prepared, for the big throw down

Me and my crew yo, we roll thirty deep

Hungry like wolves, slaughterin' sheep

You wouldn't even try to step to this big love daddy

Five-oh had me surrounded but they never really had me

Step with the swiftness, and still had 'em lookin'

I had to take my ass back to Brooklyn

Check it, dig it, dig it

Now from Pinkhouse to Flatbush to Bed-Stuy and back