Return of the Crooklyn

Return of the Crooklyn Dodgers The Crooklyn Dodgers Spike Lee gets the band back together for a sequel to 1994's "Crooklyn". This time Chubb Rock is the blast from the past, together with 90s cats and fellow Brooklynites Jeru the Damaja and O.C. Produ... "We did it like that and now we do it like this" "We did it like that and now we do it like this" Now clock, kids, who got the cocaine? Don't tell me it's the little kids on Soul Train The metaphor sent from my brain to my jaw It comes from other places, not the tinted faces Journalistic values are yellow and then of course falters You watch Channel Zero with that bitch Barbara Walters She'll have you believe black invented crack When President Lyndon had the formula way back In '63 with Kennedy, yes the double cross Remember that's when they blow his fucking head off Vietnam vets come back looking like one-armed pets Nixon bounced pure checks No picket fence, no job, no 8-Cylinder car Blue collar turns to bourgeois Depressed in your chest, Demerol, for sess No dough, crack in vials much less Whitey can sell on the corners of Bushwick Whitey can sell on the corners of Flatbush White Tees can sell on the corners of Bed-Stuy Pass the torch to that nigga guy So just die, nigga, die, nigga You're too black, you can't handle, you're too strong Get high, fly clock next boost ya steal In '95 we take back Ebbets Field Brooklyn, traveling distance to party Brooklyn, absent at functions, not hardly Brooklyn, the name alone holds Godly You don't know, you better ask somebody Crack filled streets since '85 The beast getting paid to not bust, hookers drawers got crust Claps clapping regular, hardcore niggas with Fat gold chains, on the corner maintaining Gold teeth flashing, stick-up kids playing in front of Latin Quarters, keep home your daughters Cause if bullets fly, watch the flaming Ignorant ducks are shooting wilding, they're not aiming One Easter, now I think about it, what a pity Five people died in front of Skate City Senseless, back then you was ill if you had a gun People dashing flashing, damn no fun Albee Square you couldn't shop too much cause Fort Greene would hem ya wreck the fuck on up You had Do or Die, East New York, mad hell Fellas cutting school trooping to all go Maxwell So many memories I can't manifest Yo 'Ru, start where I finish and to Brooklyn, God bless "Crazy ass Crooklyn kids" "Represent the Brooklyn all-nighter" "Crazy ass Crooklyn kids" "Because it is, survival of the fittest" (Repeat x2) Listen cause for your mind I got the right nutrition We keeps shit hard like fat asses and cases of Heineken Here in Brooklyn, home of the warrior and villain Trife type chicks, Top Billin's the anthem Rastas smoke marijuana Enterprising businessmen shoot dice on the corner Excuse me while I light my spliff but some choose to sip So bullets hit brains, when bottles hit lips Clips whatever happened to 38 special Now it's Desert Eagles, government issue Probably the same one that killed Noriega Chips that powered nuclear bombs power my Sega Subliminal hypnotism and colonialism Leave most niggas dead or in prison In Crook-land, right hand cuts off the left hand To spite the hand, jealous of the next man So violent crimes, black on black plus mad crack to boot Everybody can't rap, so most hustle and shoot Make money money, get money, take money I can't understand that concept cause Jah rules everything around me Fire burns the unjust like arson larceny Melt MC's with mental telepathy With precision, we're slicing and dicing Peace to the East New York, Perverted Monks, and Mike Tyson