[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)]



[Tek]

The eye three time, as lead transpire

Currency change, change from yours to mine

Greenbacks talk bullshit, floats on water

Pager goin off, call comin from headquarters

I was told if the secret code appears

It means some bwoy want dead, prepare for warfare



[Steele]

Fuck the truth, we bringin the noose for ya loose talk

So think smart, or rest in parts if ya do start

I fucks wit, the poor, so fuck being rich

Word is bond, there's a muthafuckin war goin on

Stand strong, on ya own two, mista

Or come confront the grim ripper

Black hoodie on, black dusty fatigues

Bloody red afro, puffin on the black weed (on three)

He lurks in the shadow, so when you sleep in the battle

That'll be, and tell ya punk lib to tattle



[Tek]

Salute, to each and every hood label truth

Doin what you gotta do to bring in the loot

Huh, the time has come for armageddion

Give nurture to your seeds, and load up ya guns, dunn

Now catchin vibes, that somethin ain't right

Gettin little hits, stomach fillin up tight

Damn, these little nappy head cheap trait bastards

Run around town wit the cronz trynna blast shit

Ain't nuthin sweat like the dark streets of Bedstuy

Creepin population, endin up in C.I.



[Steele]

Take a ride through the Flatbush side

See the dred and he caught for support, hit me off wit the lye

Now slide, through the ville, death row, say hello

To the fam that stick to K.I.M. that's planned

Toward the east, somethin's goin on

So burn the buds, and all my people in Medina stay strong



[Chorus to fade]