Geo Friend-Lee - Made in Brooklyn lyrics

I'm from Brooklyn, When we never followed trends, but what we did moved the culture, The place where you learned to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, Because if you got caught on the wrong block where no ones knows ya, The blood s**ing vultures, Would approach ya,(pause) And hand to hand combat, was normal contact, Its was just our way of life, If you lost a fight, and its was a fact, Your mom or brother was bringing you right back, not to talk to their mother, but for a rematch, This was their way of making you tougher, Since many fathers were not around, this was the recipe for many mothers, They knew if you didn't learn to stand up for yourself, You would go your entire life needing their help, And since Respect was like credit You had to do a lot to get it, But once you messed it up you can forget it, And once you are labeled an ATM. You become everyone's debit, So, certain colors were off limits, Just forget it, If you wore red, blue, black and yellow, Without medal, You may not live to regret it, It was even worse in the summer, The corners were packed with hustlers, Looking for customers, The blocks were flaming hot, because even when they got caught, and sent away for a few months, When they came back, they went right back to the same spot, On the 4th of July When we had block parties during the day, cook outs at night, You can always expect a shoot out or fight, what can I say, That was our Independence Day, Fire crackers were often mistaken for gun shots, you can go a whole day without seeing one cop, Violence was out of control, So you learned that when you heard a loud noise, you had to stop, drop, and roll, Because one minute a kid could be outside, jumping rope, The next minute people are crying, missing Tyrone, So, whenever kids were playing tag or crate basketball, Parents counted on the entire block to look after them all, If you got caught doing something wrong, Like going farther than the green pole, And Ms. Pell saw, When you got home you were getting the belt, raw, We called that "home cooking", The scars from the whoopen, was your unique stamp, That tells anyone looking, that you were Made in Brooklyn.