| Hey hey, ha ha say what say what
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| Ha ha bust it yo
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| Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner
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| Sometimes I feel like my only friend
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| Is the city I live in, is beautiful Brooklyn
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| Long as I live here believe I’m on fire hey
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| Cuz it’s the B-the-R-the-O-the-O-K
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| L-Y-N is the place where I stay
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| The B-the-R-the-O-the-O-K
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| Best in the world and all USA
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| It’s the B-to-the-R-the-O-the-O-K
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| L-Y-N is the place where I stay
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| The B-to-the-R-the-O-the-O-K
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| Place where I rest is on my born day
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| Bust it, sometimes I sit back and just reflect
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| Watch the world go by and my thought connect
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| I think about the time past and the time to come
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| Reminesce on Bed-Stuy when I was pride and young
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| I used to try and come, to the neighborhood function
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| Throw on my Izod, say a little something
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| When I was just a youngin, before the days of thuggin
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| How me and Charlie Chims (aiyyo what?) I’m only buggin
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| Fast forward, Nine-Now I gotta team my seed
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| I must proceed at God’s speed to perform my deed
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| Livin the now space and time, round the nine to five
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| For as long as I’m alive, paw I got to strive
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| I ain’t sittin roadside, that ain’t harder to plan
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| I’m out here for my fam doin all that I can
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| I love my city, sweet and gritty in land to outskirts
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| Nickname Bucktown cuz we grown to outburst
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| Philosophy redefine us, touch mines I touch back
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| Walk the streets like a sweet and get beat like drum tracks
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| Catch no shakes over jakes (boomp-boomp!) we bust back
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| Bring the marty to your face wit no place to run back
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| I’m from the slums that created the bass that thump back
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| This ain’t a game clown, play ya James Brown and jump back
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| What you want, Jack? |
| Young cats stash they jums at
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| Draw they guns back, momma screams where she sons at
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| Tryin to hunt that, recurring dream of high stakes
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| The fourth largest, first artist, Brooklyn is the place
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| Settled by the judge many years ago
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| Three billion strong and here we go
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| GOOD MORNINNNNNNNNNGG VIETNAM!!!
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| Ha (back up back up back up back up back up)*repeated in background*
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| Yo sometimes I sit back, reflect on the place that I live at
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| Unlike any place I ever been at
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| The home of big gats, deep dish hammer rim caps
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| Have a mishap, push ya wig back
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| Where you go to get the fresh trim at
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| Four on the jake got the Timb rack
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| Blue collars metro carding it
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| Thugs mobbin it, form partnership
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| Increase armorment, street pharmacist
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| Deep consequence, when you seek sleek ornaments
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| You get caught, rode the white horse and can’t get off
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| Big dogs that trick off just get sent off
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| They shoebox stash is all they seeds gotta live off
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| It’s real yo but still yo, it’s love here
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| And it’s felt by anybody that come here
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| Out of towners take the train, plane and bus here
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| Must be something that they really want here
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| One year as a resident, deeper sentiment
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| Shoutout «Go Brooklyn!», they representin it
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| Sittin on they front stoop sippin Guinesses
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| Usin native dialect in they sentences
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| >From the treeline blocks to the tenaments
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| To the Mom & Pop local shop menaces
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| Travel all around the world in great distances
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| And ain’t a place that I know that bear resemblance
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| That’s why we it The Planet
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| Not a borough or a prov, it’s our style that’s uncalm
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| >From ?sun? |
| to the? |
| to the Lafayette Gardens
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| White? |
| coff guawinas? |
| in they army jacket linings
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| Yo this goes out to my cats in Coney Isle
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| Friday night out in front The Himalaya goin wild
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| This goes out to Crown Heights and Smurv Village
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| The nighties, and all my? |
| yarda trenny? |
| Brown’s Village
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| Parkside tennants caught, thirties, forties, and the fifties
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| The cats out in Starite City gettin busy
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| To the Hook, to the East, to the Stuy
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| Bushwick and Kanarcy, Farraget, Fullgreen, and Marcy
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| My Flatbush posse, generals of armies
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| When it’s t |