Force MDs - Brooklyn Babies

Song Rating: 9.76/10

Song lyrics:

[Tiffany]
Bobby, Im tired of yo sh**, n***a!
Im tired of you comin in at 3 oclock in the mornin
n***a, you got a family here
You act like you dont f**in know that sh**
n***a, what the f**?

[RZA {​​​​*overlapped by Hook*}​​​​]
Yo, yo, yo, yo..
Born up in Kings County
Yo, yo, yo..

[Hook 1 - Force MDs]
Digital, these n***as should be crazy
Growin up as a Brooklyn baby
This how, this is my life..

[RZA]
Yo, yo, yo..
A Brooklyn baby, I was born up in Kings County
Inside the womb seven months before the Queen found me
Up in wroughty Brownsville with fiends around me
Now roam gat in Staten with Cream Team around me
They called me Bobby, Cousin Billy got the black Harley
Taught his son how to snipe cats like Lee Harvey
Oswald, alls well that ends well
My big brother Divine, he pushed the Benz well
I got the cherry Range, known for rockin heavy chains
Im from the tribe of men who would bury Kings
On the back of the A-train, my daydream
Should I make a phat hit or should I take CREAM?
From the Clan that taught you cats Cash Rules
I make slow grind tracks, you grab a** too
Give respect to the Prince when he pa** through
Might have a chocolate deluxe in a gla** shoe
Cousin Billy, known to strap the black uzi
Shoot you in front of the Jakes like Jack Ruby
Live on TV where you see B-O-B-B-Y
D-I-G-I-T-A-L, A-L, things aint too well

[Hook 1]

[Hook 2 - Force MDs]
Digital, these n***as should be crazy
Growin up as a Brooklyn baby
This is how I live my life..



[Masta k**a]
Yeah..
Peace Lafyetee, Stuyvessant, Malcolm X
Shot dice on green, we live from Pulaski yall
Its Fred Gla**y, zig-zag-zig through traffic
Get the herb, get the God, peace Ra
Whats the word on things?
Through the phone I heard the bangin sounds
In the background, layin down
Im spittin what the people missin
We extreme with the murder type theme
Dont sleep, get ya head split to the white meat
Big guns, down South we blaze
Shippin bodies back up North, its the Weston
Wild Texan, no trespa**in
Long mics hit the dead arm
Planet Earth, home of Islam
Brooklyn, I was physically born, clothes torn
Rough tacklin the streets, Allah Math spin techniques
We bring heat to the block party, drinkin Bacardi
Baggin shorties for the homies who aint here

[Hook - both to fade]

[Tiffany {​​​​*overlapped by Hook*}​​​​]
Bobby, thats right, you aint sh**, n***a
You aint sh**, but a big dick and a mothaf**in cheque
All that f**in Brooklyn sh**, Shaolin sh**
n***a, grow the f** up!
What the f** is up with you, n***a?
You aint sh**, n***a
Comin in high off that sh**
What the f**?
Im tired of yo sh**
What the f** is that sh** anyway?
What the f**?
And your cousin Billy, Im sick of that mothaf**a
That mothaf**a could never come up in this
Mothaf**in house ever again
Hes a criminal mothaf**in gangsta, see that sh**?
A criminal, Im sick of that sh**
Im sick of yo sh**, Bobby {​​​​*echoes*}​​​​
Brooklyn this, Shaolin that
What the f**, n***a?
I dont know why I love your stupid a** anyway
Pssh.. but I do love you Bobby

Date of text publication: 17.01.2021 at 06:45