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letra de return of the crooklyn dodgers - the crooklyn dodgers

[intro]
“we did it like that and now we do it like this”
“we did it like that and now we do it like this”

[verse 1: chubb rock]
now clock kids, who got the cocaine?
don’t tell me it’s the little kids on soul train
the metaphor sent from my brain to my jaw
it comes from other places, not the tinted faces
journalistic values are yellow and then, of course, falters
you’ll watch channel zero with that b-tch barbara walters
she’ll have you believe black invented crack
when president lyndon had the formula way back
in ’63 with kennedy. yes, the double cross
remember that’s when they blow his f-cking head off
vietnam vets come back looking like
one-armed pets. nixon bounced pure checks
no picket fence, no job, no 8-cylinder
car, blue collar turns to bourgeois
depressed in your chest, demerol
for sess, no dough, crack in vials much less
whitey can sell on the corners of bushwick
whitey can sell on the corners of flatbush
whiteys can sell on the corners of bed-stuy
p-ss the torch to that n-gga guy. so just
die, n-gga, die, n-gga
you’re too black, you can’t handle, you’re too strong
get high, fly, clock. next, boost your steel
in ’95, we take back ebbets field

[verse 2: o.c]
brooklyn. traveling distance to party
brooklyn. absent at functions? not hardly
brooklyn. the name alone holds godly
you don’t know? you better ask somebody
crack filled streets since ’85. the beast getting
paid to not bust. hookers’ drawers got crust
claps clapping regular, hardcore n-ggas with
fat gold chains on the corner maintaining
gold t–th flashing, stickup kids playing in front of
latin quarters—keep home your daughters
‘cause if bullets fly, watch the flaming. ignorant
ducks are shooting, wiling. they’re not aiming
one easter—now, to think about it, what a pity
five people died in front of skate city
senseless. back then you was ill if you had a gun
people gash you and flash you. d-mn, no fun
albee square, you couldn’t shop too much ‘cause
fort greene would hem you, wreck the f-ck on up. you had
do or die, east new york, mad h-ll
fellas cutting school, trooping to all go maxwell
so many memories i can’t manifest
yo, ‘ru, start where i finish and, to brooklyn, god bless

[scratched hook]
“crazy -ss crooklyn kids”
“represent the brooklyn all-nighter”
“crazy -ss crooklyn kids”
“because it is, survival of the fittest”
(repeat x2)

[verse 3: jeru the damaja]
listen ‘cause, for your mind, i got the right nutrition. we keep
sh-t hard like fat -sses and cases of heineken
here in brooklyn, home of the warrior and villain
trife type chicks, “top billin’”s the anthem
rastas smoke marijuana, enter-
-prising businessmen shoot dice on the corner
excuse me while i light my spliff but some choose to sip
so bullets hit brains when bottles hit lips
clips, whatever happened to .38 special?
now it’s desert eagles, government issue
probably the same one that k!lled noriega. chips
that power nuclear bombs power my sega
subliminal hypnotism and colonialism
leave most n-ggas dead or in prison
in crookland, right hand cuts off the left hand
to spite the hand. jealous of the next man, so violent
crimes black-on-black, plus mad crack to boot
everybody can’t rap, so most hustle and shoot
“make money money, get money, take money.” i can’t
understand that concept ‘cause jah rules everything around me
fire burns the unjust like arson, larceny
melt emcees with mental telepathy
with precision, we’re slicing and dicing. peace to
the east new york, perverted monks, and mike tyson

[scratched hook x2]

crooklyn (2x)

- the crooklyn dodgers

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