Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brook! Brook! Brook!
Where Brooklyn at, Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at, Brooklyn
Where Brookyln at, Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at? Brooklyn
Where Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn!
Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brook! Brook! Brooklyn at!
I'm right here, big; ya boy sittin' on top like a hair wig, Benz style fly
Bush wick sick, East New York walk the Brownsville grill, ill
You see, I got a Fort Green lean, Clinton hill the chill red-hook look, man
Ain't no shook hands in Brooklyn; son, yo' life can get took, man
And threw off bridges; one hard top, two soft bitches
Ride through the borough with two four fizez
Phantom open up like two door fridges
I'm makin' change to New York digits from seven-one-eight to one-eight-seven
The two-one-two to two-one-one, ya boy's back
With a new one, son
I see you, Brooklyn, what it look like?
I'm right here, Fab, wavin' the flag, comin' from Nostrand Ave.
I came to take the game in my Daddy Kane chain; niggas gave it up smooth
They ain't wanna hear the bang; bang, I'm back on my bully shit
That flat bush, bush wick, black hoody shit
Half a billi in the bankroll, bank stop anybody
Bank stop anybody - what you bank ho? Big B's on the wheels
Spread love the Brooklyn way; B, how's it feel?
I'm on my Robin Thicke shit; shit ever gets thick, back to robbin' niggas quick, trick, click
Ante up, all you niggas is Brittney - pull ya panties up
Whole borough is wit' me, hold ya cannons up
Buck one for Bucktown, Brooklyn; what the fuck?
I'm right here, Hov
East New York, Uncle Murda feelin' good; I hooked up wit' jigga
Got my grandma out the hood; ROC is back, now look at niggas
Now they can't say J ain't signed a Brooklyn nigga
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
Shootin' somebody up, or gettin' off them packs, or go into the club
Lookin' for somethin' to cap or runnin' up in ya crib like, where the safe at?
East New York'll shoot ya; they'll gat ya, homey
Brownsville rob ya; they'll clap ya, homey
Benz style, I'll get you killed for a hundred grams
Get a Coney Island nigga to pull the trigga, man
Ask Flex, he used to run the turf
Brookyln had dudes scared to rep their borough
Uncle Murda - I'm a rep to the fullest
Like shine in the club, I throw bullets, bullets
A'ight, son, it's a like it or not thing, know what I mean?
This one is for Brooklyn
I'm in ma Benz style fly, you know? Bushwick sick
I walk that East New York walk
Brownsville grill, got ma Fort Green lean
Ha ha, Clinton hill shill, red hook look, that flat bush push, know what I mean?
Cypress Hill feel, crown heights tight wit' it
The Williamsburg swerve, Coney Island stylin' on 'em
Canarsie flawsy, Park slope dope, you know?
Ya dig? This fa Brooklyn; it's young Brooklyn
Lyrics submitted by Steveweiser
"Brooklyn" as written by Tupac Shakur Andrew Roettger
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
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