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Brooklyn (Feat Jay-Z & Uncle Murda)

Is Brooklyn in here tonight?[Chorus:]

Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brook! Brook! Brook!

Where Brooklyn at, Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at, Brooklyn

Where Brookyln at, Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at? Brooklyn

Where Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brooklyn!

Brooklyn! Brooklyn! Brook! Brook! Brooklyn at![Fabolous]

I'm right here, big; ya boy sittin' on top like a hair wig, Benz style fly

Bush wick sick, East New York walk the Brownsville grill, ill

You see, I got a Fort Green lean, Clinton hill the chill red-hook look, man

Ain't no shook hands in Brooklyn; son, yo' life can get took, man

And threw off bridges; one hard top, two soft bitches

Ride through the borough with two four fizez

Phantom open up like two door fridges

I'm makin' change to New York digits from seven-one-eight to one-eight-seven

The two-one-two to two-one-one, ya boy's back

With a new one, son[Chorus][Fabolous]

I see you, Brooklyn, what it look like?[Jay-z]

I'm right here, Fab, wavin' the flag, comin' from Nostrand Ave.

I came to take the game in my Daddy Kane chain; niggas gave it up smooth

They ain't wanna hear the bang; bang, I'm back on my bully shit

That flat bush, bush wick, black hoody shit

Half a billi in the bankroll, bank stop anybody

Bank stop anybody - what you bank ho? Big B's on the wheels

Spread love the Brooklyn way; B, how's it feel?

I'm on my Robin Thicke shit; shit ever gets thick, back to robbin' niggas quick, trick, click

Ante up, all you niggas is Brittney - pull ya panties up

Whole borough is wit' me, hold ya cannons up

Buck one for Bucktown, Brooklyn; what the fuck?[Chorus][Uncle Murda]

I'm right here, Hov

East New York, Uncle Murda feelin' good; I hooked up wit' jigga

Got my grandma out the hood; ROC is back, now look at niggas

Now they can't say J ain't signed a Brooklyn nigga

Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?

Shootin' somebody up, or gettin' off them packs, or go into the club

Lookin' for somethin' to cap or runnin' up in ya crib like, where the safe at?

East New York'll shoot ya; they'll gat ya, homey

Brownsville rob ya; they'll clap ya, homey

Benz style, I'll get you killed for a hundred grams

Get a Coney Island nigga to pull the trigga, man

Ask Flex, he used to run the turf

Brookyln had dudes scared to rep their borough

Uncle Murda - I'm a rep to the fullest

Like shine in the club, I throw bullets, bullets[Chorus][Fabolous]

A'ight, son, it's a like it or not thing, know what I mean?

This one is for Brooklyn

I'm in ma Benz style fly, you know? Bushwick sick

I walk that East New York walk

Brownsville grill, got ma Fort Green lean

Ha ha, Clinton hill shill, red hook look, that flat bush push, know what I mean?

Cypress Hill feel, crown heights tight wit' it

The Williamsburg swerve, Coney Island stylin' on 'em

Canarsie flawsy, Park slope dope, you know?

Ya dig? This fa Brooklyn; it's young Brooklyn

Songwriters

Carter, Shawn / Jackson, John David / Wallace, Christopher / Grant, L. / Roettger, Andrew / Shakur, Tupac AmaruPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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