Uhh, yeah
Markie Dee and the Soul Convention
Ninety-one to ninety-two
Ninety-two, ninety-three

So on, et cetera et cetera
HanSoul and the Regulators
Crazy Keith, here we go, check it
One time

Champion hoodie, saggin'-ass Levi's and my Timbs
Brooklyn hat pulled low, chewin' on a peppermint stem stick
Kickin {shit} with the head gassed hoes
They want to piece of this and so do my foes, yeah

I gotta watch my back, when I walk the streets at night
And on my nine my hand grips tight
Really don't trust nobody, to the point
that if I get a little lip I will reach for my joint

You want to head up, nah son, my hands ain't gotta feel
No need to show my skills, blast and I'm outta here
So save you cryin' for the boys in blue
Get your story straight chump, even if it's true

It'll all be changed when you get to the precinct
Your case is history, worth about three cents
So if you don't want beef, you better stop lookin
'Cause I'm a take your ass back to Brooklyn

{*scratching: "Born and raised in the streets of Brooklyn"*}
Yeah

It's about 3 A.M., I'm on (?) Ave.
I got my toolie and a stack of cash
I never had a problem with the dollar thirty forty
Cause I was makin' moves like Fat Cat and Corley

A hustler and a killer, Mark was a smooth don
Always had jewels but never got moved on
Bodies layin' decomposin' and decayin'
You never should of {fucked} with Mark, and now you're layin'

in the {motherfuckin'} burial ground
Cause you wasn't prepared, for the big throw down
Me and my crew yo, we roll thirty deep
Hungry like wolves, slaughterin' sheep

You wouldn't even try to step to this big love daddy
Five-oh had me surrounded but they never really had me
Step with the swiftness, and still had 'em lookin'
I had to take my ass back to Brooklyn

Check it, dig it, dig it

Now from Pinkhouse to Flatbush to Bed-Stuy and back
Try to hold on to the streets I lived at
I had you beggin' on your knees
I pump your ass so full of holes you would think you was swiss cheese

So save your pleadin' it won't help none
Don't kiss ass, because you're kissin' the barrel of my shotgun
Check the glock let me surprise ya
When I'm through your own moms, won't recognize ya

I took the A Uptown with all local stops right
From Queens to Bronx but nothin' gets props like
Brooklyn - no disrespect
The other borough brothers can still wreck

Raised in East New York so don't challenge me
The trials and tribulations will increase the brutality
So if you don't want beef you better stop lookin'
'Cause I'm a take that ass back to Brooklyn

Word 'em up
A couple of quick shout outs
To Queens, the Bronx, Manhattan
Strong Island, Brooklyn, East New York

Bed-Stuy, Brownsville
Brooklawn, Cypress Hill, Pinkhouse's
Yeah, yeah
Markie Dee and the Soul
We roll deep

Writer : D. JOHNSON, J. LEON, M. MORALES, M. ROONEY
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group