| One two, one two -- you taping this?
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| All types of shit yo let that shit ride
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| Word to mother, turn up the microphone!
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| Get all that good shit, get all that good shit
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| One two, one two, one two… one two
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| Now niggaz know
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| Ssssshhhit, yo yo check this out, check this joint
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| This is strictly for the radio, yo I just want all y’all to know
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| The reason why I curse is because my momma and my daddy
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| They grew up cursin
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| So please respect my style, please!
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| Verse One: Ol Dirty Bastard
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| I’ll grab the mic and now I damage you, cut your whole stamin-u
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| Ohh, sssshit, nahh
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| I’ll grab the mic and now I damage ya, cut your whole staminuh
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| Here comes the medical examinuh
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| One verse then you out for the count
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| Bring the ammonia make sure he sniffs… the right amount
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| Ya yo, I’m sorry, un-gah-e-gas-e-ya
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| I’ll grab and the mic and now I damage you, cut your whole stamiNUH
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| Here comes the medical examiNUH
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| One verse then you’re out for the count
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| Bring the ammonia, make sure he sniffs the right amount
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| Wake you up and then I ask you
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| How do you intend this --
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| competition to get an asssss kickin sooooo tremendous, RARRH!
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| You shouldn’t bother this
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| Leave me alone like a son he’ll be fatherless!
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| I got the asiatic flow mixed with disco
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| Roll up on the scene like the Count of Monte Crisco
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| and MC’s start to vanish
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| I rolled up on a jet black kid the nigga started speakin spanish
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| Yo! |
| You wasn’t from Panana!
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| I asked you how you get so fuckin dark, you said suntama
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| He responded so fast, you made me laugh
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| Ha-ha-ha, HARARRRH scared-his ass!
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| Kick the hundred strongest rhymes
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| then I brought out the punk in him
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| Roll up with the strong five deadly venoms
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| Told HIM! |
| Enter the Wu-Tang!
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| Witness the Shaolin slang, that crush any shit you bring
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| I watch your ass take a big fall, why?!
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| My Main Source, is like a friendly game of stickball
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| And as you step up to bat man, I play the riddler
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| You try to do me for my nigga I’ll change to Hitler
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| I’ll go out like Nazi, wish your fuckin ass stayed
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| home and play Yahtzee!
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| Or watchin Happy Days sweatin Poxie
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| with Ralphie and Cunningham, Joni and Chachi
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| [Yo Unique, yo kid
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| Check this shit out! |
| Yo, yo]
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| Verse Two: Ghostface Killer
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| Ninety-five niggaz is wasted
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| Keystone capered, and Wu kept the rap fiends basted
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| Foamin out the mouthpiece, heads blown like geese
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| Murderous police, I do shows and perform in Grease
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| It’s not magic, gaming is the gadget
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| World classic big national high attracts dear graphics
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| Lampin in my own zone, my physical show
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| Inhale bones Tony stuck, for the diamond in Rome
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| He’s convincin, labelled one man rap convention
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| The nigga that’ll gun down, eighty frenchmen
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| Lead vocalist, music specialist, rap arsonist
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| I deal with sharpness plus spark the hardest individual
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| I plant crimes inside vocals
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| My rap’s like my passport, my life’s my proof
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| Hit the sun roof, be out like a wanderin dream
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| Shuttle, and get startled off the verbal hygiene, my nigga
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| Shame on you when you step through to Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo!
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| Shame on you when you step through to Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo!
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| What?!! |
| My nuh
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| Shame on you when you step through to The Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo
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| Shame on you when you step through to THe Ol Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo
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| To the West coast!
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| To the East coast
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| To the North coast
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| To the South
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| When you take North, East, West, South
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| Put it all together and it spell NEWS!
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| Then you got the ol rhythm, bastard blues
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| and ya don’t stop
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| So keep your shit, motherfucker, fucker, fucker! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Brooklyn Zoo II (Tiger Crane) , by - Ol' Dirty Bastard. Song from the album Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп