[Intro: Buddha Monk]
I made this one, for them cats
Who know how to shake, rattle and roll
In Brooklyn, huh? Daddy, Daddy, Daddy Warbucks
[Chorus: Buddha Monk]
Whether dust or dawn, high noon we get it on
Brooklyn's greatest up so y'all bring it on
Better head up at high noon or get dealt with real soon
So stay tuned, as we bring the news...
Whether dust or dawn, high noon we get it on
Brooklyn's greatest up, so y'all bring it on
Better head up at high noon or get dealt with real soon
So stay tuned, as we bring the news, blues, true
[Buddha Monk]
Who's those cats out to get Brooklyn's finest?
We street blood, honor code and the cat that make lost sold (I don't know)
I pity them foes, you need not know the beef ya started is now with creep mode
We heat fools, defeat crews, then Duck-Lo behind the news
Watch the bloody sheets on channel two
I dare you to make a move, enternal sleep you
I brick lay, ain't no time for playing games
A street pharmacist, warning, Brook apocalypse
Where Glock chips, fragments, straight from yo' abdomen
Placed by the gun of a man, behold the Son of Man
From Sun up to Sun down, sleep with heat in hand
Y'all bomb the streets from the sky, man?
Pray to ya God you don't die, man
Or be another face, read in the paper, man
It's too late, D.O. ain't noted at eight
You are no longer what you ate, you are now "Rest in Peace", deceased
[Chorus]
[Buddha Monk]
Alright, it's the land of the brave, five mics and gunplay
Where we say, "Damn, watch ya back" all day
You don't know your enemies, they come in all shapes and sizes
The surprise is, poverty n***a, you just got hot whipped (Damn)
For what reason you deserved this, taught 'em how to slang dick
And creep with, about four to five chicks
The nerve of this b**h, after all, what you get?
He either fill a whole clip, then get up with some b**h
It's Brooklawn (Brooklawn), home of shiesty n***as
Wouldn't change it for nothing either, but watch who I eat with
And speak with, hold a convo frequent
Who need this sneak peak sh**, yo delete that
By hook or crook, n***a, I gotta get mines
If I don't get mines, then my gun will blind
And it's Daddy Warbucks who just robbed you f**s
Born in the land where we never gave a f**
I was raised in handcuffs, taught to f** around and waste s*uts
From financial bucks to make my pants luck
You better get in where you fit in, fake orange with your chicken
I done bucked in that f** then shift in her gut
Now what what? Who want it with us?
To f** with bad news, you get laid up like King Tut
Want our G's up, we talk from knees up
So please trust, don't mess with us
[Chorus]
[Outro: Buddha Monk]
...as we bring the news, blues, true
...as we bring the news, blues, true