Brooklyn Babies
๐ต 3036 characters
โฑ๏ธ 3:51 duration
๐ ID: 2242886
๐ Lyrics
(Tiffany)
Bobby, I'm tired of yo' shit, nigga!
I'm tired of you comin' in at 3 o'clock in the mornin'
Nigga, you got a family here
You act like you don't fuckin' know that shit
Nigga, what the fuck?
(RZA {*overlapped by chorus*})
Yo, yo, yo, yo.
Growin' up in crazy Cali
Yo, yo, yo.
(Chorus 1 - Force MD's)
Digital, these niggas should be crazy
Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
Bedstuy, this is my life.
(RZA)
Yo, yo, yo.
A Brooklyn baby, I was bron up in King's 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, really got the black Harley
Taught his son how to spike cats like Lee Harvey
Oswald, all's well that ends well
My big brother Divine, he pushed the Benz well
I got the cherry Range, broke and rockin' heavy chains
I'm 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 Cash Rules
I make soul grind tracks, you grab ass too
Give respect to the Prince when he pass through
Might have a chocolate deluxe in a glass shoe
Cousin Billy, known to strap the black uzi
Two-two 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 ain't too well
(Chorus 1)
(Chorus 2 - Force MD's)
Digital, these niggas should be crazy
Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
This is how I live my life.
(Masta Killa)
Yeah.
Peace Lafyetee, Stuyvessant, Malcolm X
Shot dice on green, we live from Calasky y'all
It's Fred Glassy, zig-zag-zig through traffic
Get the herb, get the God, peace Ra'
What's the word on things?
Through the phone I heard the bangin' sounds
In the background, layin' down
I'm spittin' what the people missin'
We extreme with the murder type theme
Don't sleep, get ya head split to the white meat
Big guns, down South we blaze
Shippin' bodies back up North, it's the Weston
Wild Texan, no trespassin'
Long mics hit the dead arm
Planet Earth, home of Islam
Brooklyn, I was physically born, clothes torn
Rough tacklin' the streets, Allah Math' spine Technics
We bring heat to the block party, drinkin' Bacardi
Baggin' shorties for the homies who ain't here
(Chorus - both to fade)
(Tiffany {*overlapped by chorus*})
Bobby, that's right, you ain't shit, nigga
You ain't shit, but a big dick and a mothafuckin' cheque
All that fuckin' Brooklyn shit, Shaolin shit
Nigga, grow the fuck up!
What the fuck is up with you, nigga?
You ain't shit, nigga
Comin' in high off that shit
What the fuck?
I'm tired of yo' shit
What the fuck is that shit anyway?
What the fuck?
And your cousin Billy, I'm sick of that mothafucka
That mothafucka could never come up in this
Mothafuckin' house ever again
He's a criminal mothafuckin' gangsta, see that shit?
A criminal, I'm sick of that shit
I'm sick of yo' shit, Bobby {*echoes*}
Brooklyn this, Shaolin that
What the fuck, nigga?
I don't know why I love your stupid ass anyway
Pssh. but I do love you Bobby
Bobby, I'm tired of yo' shit, nigga!
I'm tired of you comin' in at 3 o'clock in the mornin'
Nigga, you got a family here
You act like you don't fuckin' know that shit
Nigga, what the fuck?
(RZA {*overlapped by chorus*})
Yo, yo, yo, yo.
Growin' up in crazy Cali
Yo, yo, yo.
(Chorus 1 - Force MD's)
Digital, these niggas should be crazy
Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
Bedstuy, this is my life.
(RZA)
Yo, yo, yo.
A Brooklyn baby, I was bron up in King's 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, really got the black Harley
Taught his son how to spike cats like Lee Harvey
Oswald, all's well that ends well
My big brother Divine, he pushed the Benz well
I got the cherry Range, broke and rockin' heavy chains
I'm 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 Cash Rules
I make soul grind tracks, you grab ass too
Give respect to the Prince when he pass through
Might have a chocolate deluxe in a glass shoe
Cousin Billy, known to strap the black uzi
Two-two 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 ain't too well
(Chorus 1)
(Chorus 2 - Force MD's)
Digital, these niggas should be crazy
Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
This is how I live my life.
(Masta Killa)
Yeah.
Peace Lafyetee, Stuyvessant, Malcolm X
Shot dice on green, we live from Calasky y'all
It's Fred Glassy, zig-zag-zig through traffic
Get the herb, get the God, peace Ra'
What's the word on things?
Through the phone I heard the bangin' sounds
In the background, layin' down
I'm spittin' what the people missin'
We extreme with the murder type theme
Don't sleep, get ya head split to the white meat
Big guns, down South we blaze
Shippin' bodies back up North, it's the Weston
Wild Texan, no trespassin'
Long mics hit the dead arm
Planet Earth, home of Islam
Brooklyn, I was physically born, clothes torn
Rough tacklin' the streets, Allah Math' spine Technics
We bring heat to the block party, drinkin' Bacardi
Baggin' shorties for the homies who ain't here
(Chorus - both to fade)
(Tiffany {*overlapped by chorus*})
Bobby, that's right, you ain't shit, nigga
You ain't shit, but a big dick and a mothafuckin' cheque
All that fuckin' Brooklyn shit, Shaolin shit
Nigga, grow the fuck up!
What the fuck is up with you, nigga?
You ain't shit, nigga
Comin' in high off that shit
What the fuck?
I'm tired of yo' shit
What the fuck is that shit anyway?
What the fuck?
And your cousin Billy, I'm sick of that mothafucka
That mothafucka could never come up in this
Mothafuckin' house ever again
He's a criminal mothafuckin' gangsta, see that shit?
A criminal, I'm sick of that shit
I'm sick of yo' shit, Bobby {*echoes*}
Brooklyn this, Shaolin that
What the fuck, nigga?
I don't know why I love your stupid ass anyway
Pssh. but I do love you Bobby
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[00:01.98] (Tiffany)
[00:03.03] Bobby, I'm tired of yo' shit, nigga!
[00:04.99] I'm tired of you comin' in at 3 o'clock in the mornin'
[00:07.65] Nigga, you got a family here
[00:09.86] You act like you don't fuckin' know that shit
[00:11.81] Nigga, what the fuck?
[00:13.78] (RZA {*overlapped by chorus*})
[00:14.87] Yo, yo, yo, yo.
[00:15.99] Growin' up in crazy Cali
[00:17.02] Yo, yo, yo.
[00:18.81] (Chorus 1 - Force MD's)
[00:19.33] Digital, these niggas should be crazy
[00:19.79] Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
[00:20.66] Bedstuy, this is my life.
[00:24.22] (RZA)
[00:24.73] Yo, yo, yo.
[00:25.65] A Brooklyn baby, I was bron up in King's County
[00:29.50] Inside the womb seven months before the Queen found me
[00:32.41] Up in wroughty Brownsville with fiends around me
[00:35.04] Now roam gat in Staten with Cream Team around me
[00:37.80] They called me Bobby, cousin, really got the black Harley
[00:40.64] Taught his son how to spike cats like Lee Harvey
[00:43.32] Oswald, all's well that ends well
[00:45.67] My big brother Divine, he pushed the Benz well
[00:48.51] I got the cherry Range, broke and rockin' heavy chains
[00:51.23] I'm from the tribe of men who would bury Kings
[00:53.82] On the back of the A-train, my daydream
[00:56.03] Should I make a phat hit or should I take CREAM?
[00:59.11] From the Clan that taught you Cash Rules
[01:01.64] I make soul grind tracks, you grab ass too
[01:04.79] Give respect to the Prince when he pass through
[01:07.10] Might have a chocolate deluxe in a glass shoe
[01:09.68] Cousin Billy, known to strap the black uzi
[01:12.18] Two-two in front of the Jakes like Jack Ruby
[01:14.45] Live on TV where you see B-O-B-B-Y
[01:18.75] D-I-G-I-T-A-L, A-L, things ain't too well
[01:21.09] (Chorus 1)
[01:22.04] (Chorus 2 - Force MD's)
[01:22.71] Digital, these niggas should be crazy
[01:23.79] Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
[01:25.65] This is how I live my life.
[01:39.72] (Masta Killa)
[01:40.02] Yeah.
[01:40.64] Peace Lafyetee, Stuyvessant, Malcolm X
[01:43.68] Shot dice on green, we live from Calasky y'all
[01:46.44] It's Fred Glassy, zig-zag-zig through traffic
[01:49.68] Get the herb, get the God, peace Ra'
[01:51.64] What's the word on things?
[01:52.94] Through the phone I heard the bangin' sounds
[01:54.59] In the background, layin' down
[01:56.29] I'm spittin' what the people missin'
[01:58.05] We extreme with the murder type theme
[01:59.74] Don't sleep, get ya head split to the white meat
[02:02.31] Big guns, down South we blaze
[02:04.73] Shippin' bodies back up North, it's the Weston
[02:07.76] Wild Texan, no trespassin'
[02:09.45] Long mics hit the dead arm
[02:11.65] Planet Earth, home of Islam
[02:13.20] Brooklyn, I was physically born, clothes torn
[02:15.47] Rough tacklin' the streets, Allah Math' spine Technics
[02:17.80] We bring heat to the block party, drinkin' Bacardi
[02:20.89] Baggin' shorties for the homies who ain't here
[02:23.56] (Chorus - both to fade)
[02:35.88] (Tiffany {*overlapped by chorus*})
[02:36.77] Bobby, that's right, you ain't shit, nigga
[02:41.32] You ain't shit, but a big dick and a mothafuckin' cheque
[02:45.22] All that fuckin' Brooklyn shit, Shaolin shit
[02:48.27] Nigga, grow the fuck up!
[02:49.96] What the fuck is up with you, nigga?
[02:51.64] You ain't shit, nigga
[02:53.26] Comin' in high off that shit
[02:55.51] What the fuck?
[02:56.66] I'm tired of yo' shit
[02:57.68] What the fuck is that shit anyway?
[02:58.76] What the fuck?
[03:01.15] And your cousin Billy, I'm sick of that mothafucka
[03:03.63] That mothafucka could never come up in this
[03:06.14] Mothafuckin' house ever again
[03:07.20] He's a criminal mothafuckin' gangsta, see that shit?
[03:10.78] A criminal, I'm sick of that shit
[03:13.54] I'm sick of yo' shit, Bobby {*echoes*}
[03:17.99] Brooklyn this, Shaolin that
[03:19.63] What the fuck, nigga?
[03:21.18] I don't know why I love your stupid ass anyway
[03:25.11] Pssh. but I do love you Bobby
[03:30.76]
[00:03.03] Bobby, I'm tired of yo' shit, nigga!
[00:04.99] I'm tired of you comin' in at 3 o'clock in the mornin'
[00:07.65] Nigga, you got a family here
[00:09.86] You act like you don't fuckin' know that shit
[00:11.81] Nigga, what the fuck?
[00:13.78] (RZA {*overlapped by chorus*})
[00:14.87] Yo, yo, yo, yo.
[00:15.99] Growin' up in crazy Cali
[00:17.02] Yo, yo, yo.
[00:18.81] (Chorus 1 - Force MD's)
[00:19.33] Digital, these niggas should be crazy
[00:19.79] Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
[00:20.66] Bedstuy, this is my life.
[00:24.22] (RZA)
[00:24.73] Yo, yo, yo.
[00:25.65] A Brooklyn baby, I was bron up in King's County
[00:29.50] Inside the womb seven months before the Queen found me
[00:32.41] Up in wroughty Brownsville with fiends around me
[00:35.04] Now roam gat in Staten with Cream Team around me
[00:37.80] They called me Bobby, cousin, really got the black Harley
[00:40.64] Taught his son how to spike cats like Lee Harvey
[00:43.32] Oswald, all's well that ends well
[00:45.67] My big brother Divine, he pushed the Benz well
[00:48.51] I got the cherry Range, broke and rockin' heavy chains
[00:51.23] I'm from the tribe of men who would bury Kings
[00:53.82] On the back of the A-train, my daydream
[00:56.03] Should I make a phat hit or should I take CREAM?
[00:59.11] From the Clan that taught you Cash Rules
[01:01.64] I make soul grind tracks, you grab ass too
[01:04.79] Give respect to the Prince when he pass through
[01:07.10] Might have a chocolate deluxe in a glass shoe
[01:09.68] Cousin Billy, known to strap the black uzi
[01:12.18] Two-two in front of the Jakes like Jack Ruby
[01:14.45] Live on TV where you see B-O-B-B-Y
[01:18.75] D-I-G-I-T-A-L, A-L, things ain't too well
[01:21.09] (Chorus 1)
[01:22.04] (Chorus 2 - Force MD's)
[01:22.71] Digital, these niggas should be crazy
[01:23.79] Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
[01:25.65] This is how I live my life.
[01:39.72] (Masta Killa)
[01:40.02] Yeah.
[01:40.64] Peace Lafyetee, Stuyvessant, Malcolm X
[01:43.68] Shot dice on green, we live from Calasky y'all
[01:46.44] It's Fred Glassy, zig-zag-zig through traffic
[01:49.68] Get the herb, get the God, peace Ra'
[01:51.64] What's the word on things?
[01:52.94] Through the phone I heard the bangin' sounds
[01:54.59] In the background, layin' down
[01:56.29] I'm spittin' what the people missin'
[01:58.05] We extreme with the murder type theme
[01:59.74] Don't sleep, get ya head split to the white meat
[02:02.31] Big guns, down South we blaze
[02:04.73] Shippin' bodies back up North, it's the Weston
[02:07.76] Wild Texan, no trespassin'
[02:09.45] Long mics hit the dead arm
[02:11.65] Planet Earth, home of Islam
[02:13.20] Brooklyn, I was physically born, clothes torn
[02:15.47] Rough tacklin' the streets, Allah Math' spine Technics
[02:17.80] We bring heat to the block party, drinkin' Bacardi
[02:20.89] Baggin' shorties for the homies who ain't here
[02:23.56] (Chorus - both to fade)
[02:35.88] (Tiffany {*overlapped by chorus*})
[02:36.77] Bobby, that's right, you ain't shit, nigga
[02:41.32] You ain't shit, but a big dick and a mothafuckin' cheque
[02:45.22] All that fuckin' Brooklyn shit, Shaolin shit
[02:48.27] Nigga, grow the fuck up!
[02:49.96] What the fuck is up with you, nigga?
[02:51.64] You ain't shit, nigga
[02:53.26] Comin' in high off that shit
[02:55.51] What the fuck?
[02:56.66] I'm tired of yo' shit
[02:57.68] What the fuck is that shit anyway?
[02:58.76] What the fuck?
[03:01.15] And your cousin Billy, I'm sick of that mothafucka
[03:03.63] That mothafucka could never come up in this
[03:06.14] Mothafuckin' house ever again
[03:07.20] He's a criminal mothafuckin' gangsta, see that shit?
[03:10.78] A criminal, I'm sick of that shit
[03:13.54] I'm sick of yo' shit, Bobby {*echoes*}
[03:17.99] Brooklyn this, Shaolin that
[03:19.63] What the fuck, nigga?
[03:21.18] I don't know why I love your stupid ass anyway
[03:25.11] Pssh. but I do love you Bobby
[03:30.76]