Brooklyn Stand Up

Yeah, Papoose
March to the Thugacation soldiers
Brooklyn, New York
Let's go, Thuga, Thuga, C'mon

'Cause when the block start clicking
The fiends smoking and sniffing
And the guns get to spitting away (Yeah!)
Stick up kids keep sticking
From New Lots to Pitkin
Brownsville, stand up
What it do, dude, what
We was doing the dying
When them dudes wasn't doing a thing
In Crown Heights, chain hang
East New York, same thing
Bed-Stuy, stand up

'Cause if
You got grams and I got grams, let's put our
Grams together and lock these grams
If we can't eat together, then you ain't my man
So when you see me in the streets, don't shake my hand, if
You got guns and I got guns, let's put our
Guns together and lock this, son
You don't want to roll with me I'mma pop you, son
If you ain't with me, you against me, I don't bite my tongue
I get it gully, bet you like that, huh
Where the weed, nigga light that up
Ayo, I fight the night shifts 'till I knock out mornings
Used to jump crackheads when the block got boring
Come to your hood and make it hot, 'cause I got mine scorching
I walk around with no ID, I got warrants
The cab driver dropped me off, with my mouth yawning
He said the cab was seven dollars, but I hopped out on him
Tried to ask me for his bread, so I wild' out on him
'Caught him with a two-piece, left him knocked out snoring
Niggas taking this for granted, we want [?]
He don't want to make enemies, he want friends
Put the gun in his mouth, yeah it's me again
Leave your tongue hanging out like beat up Timbs
What type of situation did you leave us in?
If you can't write fire, give me your pen
You come from a hood, that we re-up in
BK, that's the borough niggas G'd up in
You better watch, how you pull your V up, slim
Keep the window low enough, so I can see your chin
Who the fuck hood you think your trying to creep up in?
If the glass low enough to stick the Nina in
I'mma throw the drop on you and your three-butt-mens
If you ain't creeping on me, keep your seat up then
Why you keep acting like you got the brains of prophet?
Pluck y'all niggas and rip you lames out the socket
Lil nigga, you a faggot who came out the closet
Hold you by your ankles and shake your change out your pockets
Go the Heckler & Koch, I ain't even got to cock it, it's double action
Pop you, I pull it out and then lock it
The streets is mine, the bars is mine, give it back
Papoose, I'm the new era like a fitted cap
Rappers ain't the same when you see 'em in person
Some of them act tough 'till you murk 'em
Son know he can't come in my hood, 'cause I'mma hurt him
I stop son from coming in like curtains
I mastered this, so I spit at you wisely
I'm your master, like your original copy
If I die trying, I'mma be rich in the afterlife then
At the crossroads to the riches with lavish items
A lot of rappers selling their souls, I'd rather price 'em
So pass the scalpel, his Adam's apple, I'll have to slice 'em
You savage trifling and backwards biting [?]
[?] so for my borough I sacrifice 'em
I stab 'em twice and my dagger dice 'em, now that's excitement
They flashing sirens, they passing [?] as fast as lightning
Beat you up with my bare hands, you faggots frightened
What did he use to put the [?] on 'em? Is that a trident?

'Cause when the block start clicking
The fiends smoking and sniffing
And the guns get to spitting away
Stick up kids keep sticking
From new Lots to Pitkin
Brownsville, stand up
What it do, dude, what
We was doing the dying
When them dudes wasn't doing a thing
In Crown Heights, chain hang
East New York, same thing
Bed-Stuy, stand up