Grip Grand - Broakland II lyrics

Back again, broker than before "Kick down!" Four tracks? Repoed "Took them sh**s!" We got two now "Peace!" Make do with it Broke... Broakland Broakland We put it all on the line like a free throw I traded in the bucket for a hundred bucks And a free tow It's sad when you can't afford a cab and You have to bring a bike lock along when you go out looking for action At the Safeway, I pay with coins, Club Card And coupons I never throw out the stale bread, I make croutons! Hey, soup's on Eat a MC 'cuz I'm hungry I had to pay taxes or liquidate my a**ets and Flee the country Knuckle up, the beat's bumpy With my busted-out bank account, nobody wants me Foul flagrant, no laundry soap, smell like a vagrant "Fragrant!" My Speed Stick ran out and I can't afford to replace it Dirty-down basement, Broakland, I can't taste it Bank statement, I can't get a good credit rating Plus the insurance dropped my a** Because I like to drive fast, regardless if The cops stop my a**, so f** Geico Plus I know a spot we could all go That's known for the empty bank vaults like Geraldo The B-R...O-A-K-Land is where we are It's the most, other places come close, but no cigar So gritty, my city doesn't need a street weeper Eat meagre, tell it to your folks like Pete seeger That it's either empty stomach or closed fist I admit that I'm starvin' and sh**, so don't dis Kiss of d**h with bad breath, I never had less Than when I moved to Broakland The most busted address Because Broakland wants you to know that it loves you Then vics your wristwatch when it hugs you...