[Tek]
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This is the story of a place, that we call home
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Where the kids pack heat when it's time to roam
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Everybody's on the scramble, life's a gamble
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Hoppin on the white horse, tryin to get a handle
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On the fast pace that we call the last race
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Step wit precaution when you enter this place
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We got a spot on every block that makes ya dreams come true
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Just come correct wit the snapses or ya doo
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Don't come cryin broke, still tryin to cop the dope
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What parts of no, do not you understand bro
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We can't afford to take shorts or be playing sports
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Empires need to be built, mack 10's bought
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Or even caught for them deceased ass hustlers
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And we still got the pound for ya living muthafuckas
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What goes around comes back to the roots
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See you at the revolution and Crooklyn, true
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[Chorus]
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We live in Brooklyn baby
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We try to make it baby
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We gonna make it baby
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We live in Brooklyn baby
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[Steele]
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Another day, another dollar dead
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Pigs rushin the crib to catch a collar now I'm fed
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What the face now, me and my people's taste crown
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Stayin face down, while K-9's sniffs around
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What they found was irrelevant, the weed cuz
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They was sent to represent and cause a ruckus amongst us
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Now I got more pigs rushin we, handcuffin me
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Takin hold of we, in the custody
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For blushin in, rasta boy restin in peace
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After going through the bullshit, we in release
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To hit the streets, where the war still off for all of y'all
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Cuz they kept rule locked behind the wall
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No time at all, no fake, no jacks
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Perhaps when the gat spins, niggas won't even know what happen
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I'll be glad when my man come home
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Cuz in the zone muthafuckas grab ya chrome
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[Chorus (with Tek shoutin out)]
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[Tek]
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The eye three time, as lead transpire
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Currency change, change from yours to mine
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Greenbacks talk bullshit, floats on water
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Pager goin off, call comin from headquarters
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I was told if the secret code appears
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It means some bwoy want dead, prepare for warfare
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[Steele]
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Fuck the truth, we bringin the noose for ya loose talk
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So think smart, or rest in parts if ya do start
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I fucks wit, the poor, so fuck being rich
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Word is bond, there's a muthafuckin war goin on
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Stand strong, on ya own two, mista
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Or come confront the grim ripper
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Black hoodie on, black dusty fatigues
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Bloody red afro, puffin on the black weed (on three)
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He lurks in the shadow, so when you sleep in the battle
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That'll be, and tell ya punk lib to tattle
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[Tek]
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Salute, to each and every hood label truth
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Doin what you gotta do to bring in the loot
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Huh, the time has come for armageddion
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Give nurture to your seeds, and load up ya guns, dunn
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Now catchin vibes, that somethin ain't right
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Gettin little hits, stomach fillin up tight
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Damn, these little nappy head cheap trait bastards
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Run around town wit the cronz trynna blast shit
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Ain't nuthin sweat like the dark streets of Bedstuy
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Creepin population, endin up in C.I.
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[Steele]
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Take a ride through the Flatbush side
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See the dred and he caught for support, hit me off wit the lye
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Now slide, through the ville, Seth Low, say hello
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To the fam that stick to K.I.M. that's planned
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Toward the east, somethin's goin on
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So burn the buds, and all my people in Medina stay strong
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[Chorus to fade]
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-----------------
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Home Sweet Home
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Smif-N-Wessun |