Force MD’s
Brooklyn Babies
Bobby, I'm tired of yo' sh*t, n***a!
I'm tired of you comin' in at 3 o'clock in the f**kin' mornin'
N***a, you got a f**kin' family here
You act like you don't f**kin' know that sh*t
N***a, what the f**k?

Born up in Kings County

[Hook 1 - Force MD's]
Digital, these n***as should be crazy
Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
This how, this is my life..

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, YO
A Brooklyn baby, I was born 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 Billy got the black Harley
Taught his son how to snipe 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, known for 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 cats Cash Rules
I make slow grind tracks, you grab a** too
Give respect to the Prince when he pa** through
Might have a chocolate deluxe in a gla** shoe
Cousin Billy, known to strap the black uzi
Shoot you 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
[Hook 1]

[Hook 2 - Force MD's]
Digital, these n***as should be crazy
Growin' up as a Brooklyn baby
This is how I live my life..

[Masta Killa]
Peace Lafyetee, Stuyvessant, Malcolm X
Shot dice on green, we live from Pulaski y'all
It's Fred Gla**y, 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 trespa**in'
Long mics hit the dead arm
Planet Earth, home of Islam
Brooklyn, I was physically born, clothes torn
Rough tacklin' the streets, Allah Math' spin techniques
We bring heat to the block party, drinkin' Bacardi
Baggin' shorties for the homies who ain't here
[Hook - both to fade]

[Tiffany {​​​​*overlapped by Hook*}​​​​]
Bobby, that's right, you ain't sh*t, n***a
You ain't sh*t, but a big d**k and a mothaf**kin' cheque
All that f**kin' Brooklyn sh*t, Shaolin sh*t
N***a, grow the f**k up!
What the f**k is up with you, n***a?
You ain't sh*t, n***a
Comin' in high off that sh*t
What the f**k?
I'm tired of yo' sh*t
What the f**k is that sh*t anyway?
What the f**k?
And your cousin Billy, I'm sick of that mothaf**ka
That mothaf**ka could never come up in this
Mothaf**kin' house ever again
He's a criminal mothaf**kin' gangsta, see that sh*t?
A criminal, I'm sick of that sh*t
I'm sick of yo' sh*t, Bobby {​​​​*echoes*}​​​​
Brooklyn this, Shaolin that
What the f**k, n***a?
I don't know why I love your stupid a** anyway
Pssh.. but I do love you Bobby