M.o.p. - Brownsville Lyrics
Brownsvilles the place where crews seem the livestCops get knocked down body counts only risingThem streets look - full to ya!Villains look - poor to ya!Them niggasll - slaughter ya!For your goose nauticaYou got jewels? stash em sonCause theres a thousand niggas brokeAnd we all got guns!And you know what that meansNiggas be open like they smoking caffeineLooking to do a quick stick, move, and swiftWith your ___ on your hipReady to flipWhenever you empty your clip, dipAnd get the ***** up out of dodgeThats if you know whats up kidNiggas is getting mandela timePlus the crackers is corruptedBut then you got them clockers down at 73rdThat was drug associated since the 70s, wordIts kinda skepticLiving these crazy ways unprotectedEvery day is a jamSo expect the unexpectedCrime time!1-718 brownsville, brooklynThe housing property be getting tookenSo were intendedBe under pressure getting blackmailedVillains using their dealingsMaking killings off of crack salesThe theme song of murderNobodys kidding,These fools are forbiddenAutomatics just be spittinAnd devastating, and profoundYou get lumped up soon as you jump upOr get gunned down in brownsvilleYoung bucks got guns(now thats a damn shame)Everybody claim they represent and do they thing_____ toting in cases hard to believeThe firing squadll throw your whole borough under siegeBeyond twin chrome and farmersNigga its billy danzeAnd when Im double clutching my handsThem *****ers wont jamSo my man, if your seeking an advance to your graveIts the land of the drama lordAnd the home of the *****ing braveIts hard to trust us cause its mad ruckusWe toe tax with mufflers for small time hustlersIts blue steel concealed under my sweaterTo calm down whoeverDuke, I move cleverI must keep it stepping, hopsWhen shit be getting hotI step and bopWhile I stroll with my weapon *****edThe hill thats real, we kill at willClack clack! clack clack!Clack clack! clack clack!Mad guns in your grillIn the villeBrownsville! (yeah)Killings here only bring retaliationNo cryingSee dyings an everyday thingSwing 25 niggas down by my battlegroundsIll move in with 8 thugs that love busting roundsYou know the dealIn my streets your heater be ready to blazeKeep cash in your stashIn case you gotta be swayzeFor twisting a nigga cap backThats that work of m.o.p.Who we be? firing squad of 11233Clack clack!Whole clips in your backThats thug styleTurning a small section of brooklynInto the ok corralNow, news flashRazorfied leadOne grazed tedTwo paralyzedThree deadGunmen fled the sceneryWith heavy automatic machineryNiggas aint got nothing to loseAnd yo it seems to beIll niggaKill or be killedIn the ville niggaAll up and down mother gastonThey blasting steelBlow your stacks and chipsIn acs with rimsWe be living goodWith a mac and black timsKeep this in mindAnd they might not find you in the riverWith the next guyThat fly shit that brownsville deliver, nigga
