Prince Markie Dee and the Soul Convention - Back to Brooklyn Lyrics

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

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 wanna 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 wanna 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'ma 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 shoulda {f*cked with Mark, and now you're layin

in the {motherf*ckin burial ground

Cause you wasn't prepared, for the big throwdown

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



{*scratching: "Born and raised in the streets of 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'ma take that ass back to Brooklyn



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