Chorus: Big Daddy Kane
 Come on y'all and feel the groove
 Get on down and make your move
 Welcome to the funkiest
 Brooklyn style, laid out like this

 Chorus

 [Big Daddy Kane]
 I kicks the flavor good, to represent the neighborhood
 where I come from, and that's the place of Brooklyn
 where the grimies are born and bred
 And bullets are like eyeballs, two to the head

 [Scoob]
 Well is it Brownsville? Time to represent for the map
 where the peeps smoke blunts and like to wear mad gold caps
 The party addict about to explode
 From the 1-1-2, the double-3 ill zip code

 [Big Daddy Kane]
 Parlayin on the corner, drinkin 40's shootin cee-lo
 It's a Brooklyn thing, aight? You know our steelo
 And for those who just don't know how it go
 Play like a substitute teacher and ACT like you know

 [Scoob]
 So yo, who wanna set it? You better kick your best G
 You and your whole entourage couldn't test me
 I represent for the fo' main
 And if you're not a booty bandit, then niggaz can't hang

 Chorus

 [Big Daddy Kane]
 Now, let's get straight down to the point
 I represent for this Brooklyn joint, baby pah, where we're takin it to
 Makin a few dollars don't mean you gotta forget
 where you come from and try to be someone, that you're really not
 and front with what you got
 You're gonna be looked at as a black man still so keep it real
 What type of mission can I say you on?
 Because you musta done changed to some Grey Poupon, heh
 I'm really happy to see you blew up
 But always remember my man you grew up
 in the PJ's all your life, in a broken home
 (Scoob: Well alright now)
 Up in the PJ's all your life, keepin it strong, WHAT!
 I be the Louis Ave livin, live long lastin lover
 Bonafied black brother, word to the mother
 Skilled at trades at hand with those who made
 the man with support and always stayed a fan
 My dialectic style is perfected
 in ways you can't imagine rap bein accepted
 Funk'll slam like a doper jam, pops
 I'm takin mine like taxes with Uncle Sam
 So check out the asiatic type of flow
 like water in the Nile, but it's Brooklyn style

 Chorus

 [Scoob]
 Yo, this is Big Scoob, no practice
 I'm flippin on niggaz like little kids on that mattress
 You know my style, Baby Pah from the PJ's
 My lyrics so dope, they too fat for local DJ's
 So hear me out, no doubt, no need for screamin
 My boys in the back, clockin your jewels, and they scheamin
 Why did they step to me, I hit em, bow, bu-dow
 Knocked out his fronts cause the kid was mad fragile
 No need for beef chief I'm rollin mad deep
 So pick up your teeth, I got him shakin like a leaf
 Not tryin to scare you, I just wanna aware you
 I bet you won't even look at my face (WHAT WHAT WHAT) I dare you
 Yo nigga please, yo I'm nice with these
 while you're guardin your grill, I'll be beatin up your kidneys
 Me and my boys with the fat tec 9's
 with my joint cocked back, in case a punk tried to take mines
 Where I'm from there's no need for hesitation
 We cock and squeeze, now where's the doctor for this patient?
 He's drippin blood and now he's down to his last breath
 But he won't make it, cause he knows that my joint is def
 The ill, type of Brooklyn artist
 who rocks the har-dest, regard-less
 who you know and where you're from I pull your file
 (How?) Brooklyn style

 Chorus