Songtext Brooklyn style... laid out (feat. big scoob) Big Daddy Kane

Brooklyn style... laid out (feat. big scoob)

Chorus: big daddy kane

Come on yall and feel the groove

Get on down and make your move

Welcome to the funkiest

Brooklyn style, laid out like this

Chorus

[big daddy kane]

I kicks the flavor good, to represent the neighborhood

Where I come from, and thats the place of brooklyn

Where the grimies are born and bred

And bullets are like eyeballs, two to the head

[scoob]

Well is it brownsville'time to represent for the map

Where the peeps smoke blunts and like to wear mad gold caps

The party addict about to explode

From the 1-1-2, the double-3 ill zip code

[big daddy kane]

Parlayin on the corner, drinkin 40s shootin cee-lo

Its a brooklyn thing, aightàyou know our steelo

And for those who just dont know how it go

Play like a substitute teacher and act like you know

[scoob]

So yo, who wanna set ità you better kick your best g

You and your whole entourage couldnt test me

I represent for the fo main

And if youre not a booty bandit, then niggaz cant hang

Chorus

[big daddy kane]

Now, lets get straight down to the point

I represent for this brooklyn joint, baby pah, where were takin it to

Makin a few dollars dont mean you gotta forget

Where you come from and try to be someone, that youre really not

And front with what you got

Youre gonna be looked at as a black man still so keep it real

What type of mission can I say you on?
Because you musta done changed to some grey poupon, heh

Im really happy to see you blew up

But always remember my man you grew up

In the pjs all your life, in a broken home
(scoob: well alright now)

Up in the pjs all your life, keepin it strong, what!

I be the louis ave livin, live long lastin lover

Bonafied black brother, word to the mother

Skilled at trades at hand with those who made

The man with support and always stayed a fan

My dialectic style is perfected

In ways you cant imagine rap bein accepted

Funkll slam like a doper jam, pops

Im takin mine like taxes with uncle sam

So check out the asiatic type of flow

Like water in the nile, but its brooklyn style

Chorus

[scoob]

Yo, this is big scoob, no practice

Im flippin on niggaz like little kids on that mattress

You know my style, baby pah from the pjs

My lyrics so dope, they too fat for local djs

So hear me out, no doubt, no need for screamin

My boys in the back, clockin your jewels, and they scheamin

Why did they step to me, I hit em, bow, bu-dow

Knocked out his fronts cause the kid was mad fragile

No need for beef chief Im rollin mad deep

So pick up your teeth, I got him shakin like a leaf

Not tryin to scare you, I just wanna aware you

I bet you wont even look at my face (what what what) I dare you

Yo nigga please, yo Im nice with these

While youre guardin your grill, Ill be beatin up your kidneys

Me and my boys with the fat tec 9s

With my joint cocked back, in case a punk tried to take mines

Where Im from theres no need for hesitation

We cock and squeeze, now wheres the doctor for this patientà
Hes drippin blood and now hes down to his last breath

But he wont make it, cause he knows that my joint is def

The ill, type of brooklyn artist

Who rocks the har-dest, regard-less

Who you know and where youre from I pull your file
(how? ) brooklyn style

Chorus