Return of the Crooklyn Dodgers

We did it like that and now we do it like this
We did it like that and now we do it like this
Yeah
Now clock kids, who got the cocaine?
Don't tell me it's the little kids on Soul Train
The metaphor sent from my brain to my jaw
It comes from other places, not the tinted faces
Journalistic values are yellow and then, of course, falters
You'll watch Channel Zero with that bitch Barbara Walters
She'll have you believe Black invented crack
When President Lyndon had the formula way back
In '63 with Kennedy, yes, the double cross
Remember that's when they blow his fucking head off
Vietnam vets come back looking like
One-armed pets, Nixon bounced pure checks
No picket fence, no job, no 8-cylinder car
Blue-collar turns to bourgeois
Depressed in your chest, Demerol
For sess, no dough, crack in vials much less
Whitey can sell on the corners of Bushwick
Whitey can sell on the corners of Flatbush
Whiteys can sell on the corners of Bed-Stuy
Pass the torch to that nigga guy
So just die, nigga, die, nigga
You're too black, you can't handle, you're too strong
Get high, fly, clock, next boost your steel
In '95, we take back Ebbets Field
Brooklyn, traveling distance to party
Brooklyn, absent at functions? Not hardly
Brooklyn, the name alone holds Godly
You don't know? You better ask somebody
Crack-filled streets since '85
The beast getting paid to not bust
Hookers' drawers got crust
Claps clapping regular, hardcore niggas with
Fat gold chains on the corner maintaining
Gold teeth flashing, stickup kids playing in front of
Latin Quarters, keep home your daughters
'Cause if bullets fly, watch the flaming
Ignorant ducks are shooting, wilding, they're not aiming
One Easter, now, to think about it, what a pity
Five people died in front of Skate City
Senseless, back then you was ill if you had a gun
People gash you and flash you, damn, no fun
Albee Square, you couldn't shop too much 'cause
Fort Greene would hem you, wreck the fuck on up
You had do or die, East New York, mad hell
Fellas cutting school, trooping to all go Maxwell
So many memories I can't manifest
Yo, 'Ru, start where I finish and to Brooklyn, God bless
Yeah, we represent
Listen 'cause for your mind, I got the right nutrition
We keep shit hard like fat asses and cases of Heineken
Here in Brooklyn, home of the warrior and villain
Trife type chicks, "Top Billin'"s the anthem
Rastas smoke marijuana
Enterprising businessmen shoot dice on the corner
Excuse me while I light my spliff but some choose to sip
So bullets hit brains when bottles hit lips
Clips, whatever happened to .38 Specials?
Now it's Desert Eagles, government issue
Probably the same one that killed Noriega
Chips that power nuclear bombs power my Sega
Subliminal hypnotism and colonialism
Leave most niggas dead or in prison
In Crookland, right hand cuts off the left hand
To spite the hand, jealous of the next man
So violent crimes black-on-black, plus mad crack to boot
Everybody can't rap, so most hustle and shoot
Make money money, get money, take money
I can't understand that concept 'cause Jah rules everything around me
Fire burns the unjust like arson, larceny
Melt emcees with mental telepathy
With precision, we're slicing and dicing
Peace to the East New York, Perverted Monks, and Mike Tyson
(Crazy-ass Crooklyn kids)
(Because it is survival of the fittest)
(Crazy-ass Crooklyn kids)
(Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter)
(Crazy-ass Crooklyn kids)
(Because it is survival of the fittest)