Brooklyn Brawl - Prop Dylan, Talib Kweli

Hey yo ladies, a cargo ball

Fingers to keep her pointing 'em

The jealousy and greed

Please, you’re Nickelodeon’s hot

Flip a coin and jump up to see the podium

It’s like an opium trip

Woah my spit is poisonous

Born and bred in the city of chimney smoke clouds

So no god, I got down to scribble notes

I’m also trip her dosage

Different strokes for different folks

Solidify the inner growth

You apply holes to my lung

'Cause my south-six is golden like shoulder the brawn

We got the pros in the corn

All this for all nought, it’s all over before long

Word is born, though it was yet inadequate

We’ll label, let you know

Stop playing the devil’s advocate

Before and after shit, it’s so wavy

It’s like these streets are directed by Scorsese

All me, by all means necessary

Edged in stone if you walk these cemetaries

Flesh and bone, the dirt of a jail

So every sinning is felt like you’re wedded in brown

Brooklyn brawl and the boiling like cooking oil

It’s chess has taking your brooks

To lay 'em where the crooks is royal

Ain’t cooking to spoil meat

But loyal to the bodega

The forties right in tomatoes

Some cappin' in Las Vegas

The product of dope dealers

Pocket of dro', nothing my fro'

I start to tear with the fort I smoke the clear

I’ve got a unity of pepper spray

Step away, step at a time

You lames getting run over by a Chevrolet

Dead man tell no tales

But that’s not what the dead don’t say

They say run, let them fight another day

Pay attention 'cause they whisper in from heaven’s gate

Providing you with wisdom and advice before you let it stray

Find a better way

Why you always thinking that it must be rhyming

This shit is bootleg, they call it knocky times

Let us pray, let’s split it two ways with Bob Dylan

The two was already your 'cause we top billing

When we say throw your hands

Just protect yo' face

Keep that guard up, I ain’t planning to be a slept-on case

'Cause fathers to the style, I respect those greats

Those who starving on us now, like they left no trace

My name ring bells, hit the hustlers of Charleton

If I targeted the mock, you wouldn’t argue my accomplishments

Bullets that they awfully dodging like Jacky Robinson

Why we keep 'em coming back for more like case Solomon

Hit 'em up, hit 'em hard, where your cool at?

Why like on us like a news pack

Get 'em down to the south, so boom back

Like we’re bringing '92 back

Get 'em up, get 'em high, where your crew at?

Why like on us like a douchebag

Get 'em down to the south, so boom back

Like we’re bringing '92 back