Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Welcome to Bucktown USA, artist - Boot Camp Clik. Album song The Chosen Few, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 07.12.2005
Record label: Duck Down
Song language: English
Welcome to Bucktown USA |
| Yeah |
| Smokin on some of that sticky icky for my nigga |
| I said for my nigga who do that joint back there |
| That’s Scratch from The Roots, you heard me? |
| Listen up, learn something |
| Hey yo, it’s real out here |
| You better know the drill out here |
| Son, you better pack steel out here |
| The minute you show fear you get killed out here |
| I seen niggas slip and lose they will out here |
| Word, playin the curb where crack rock and lleyo is served |
| Watchin for beast so they don’t observe |
| Another day another hustle, nigga, stay in your swerve |
| I stay focused and never let it weigh on my nerves |
| Back on the block where young thugs blast for they props |
| Trash the Glock through a 100 yard dash on a cop |
| Got half the p’s runnin while the other half watch |
| And when it’s hot stash the work in your sock or get knocked |
| This is a dirty game, so play it to win |
| And watch them niggas, they some devious men |
| You either love me or hate me, ain’t no need to pretend |
| Cause fake friends always wind up enemies in the end |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA |
| Where the weak get dissed every day |
| (Bucktown is the state of mind that I’m trapped in) |
| (Lawd, some bwoy gon' get dead tonight) |
| Bucktown USA, where it all started |
| Respect to the products and the dearly departed |
| Bow Leg Dimples, Dotty and Janie |
| Rob and Smiley made me, the community raised me |
| Mom left pops, moved to the Eighties |
| Canarsie hookey parties was crazy |
| Glenwood P’s, watch for the d’s who down in the trenches |
| Playin the benches, rappin to release tension |
| When Ru got sentenced I knew they meant business |
| When Bo got hit, shit, I knew we had to flip this |
| PNC, BCC, Genereal S-t-double e-l-e |
| We do this like we do this cause we all family |
| Known as some of the truest in this industry |
| Contract combat left casualties |
| Duck down when you’re marked on target and I squeeze |
| I walk up with my boots tight |
| Laced up by my leg, I’m beyond your reg hood type |
| And half of you dudes is like |
| Hollywood rap act that belong on a movie site |
| Come on aight, admit it |
| You really wanna come into my hood but you know it’s not good to come up in it |
| Cause everyday we on a mission |
| Don’t slip, don’t snooze, when you move through disciplined |
| Listen, never think it’s all gravy, it could be yours, baby |
| They’ll even take from your lady; |
| and boo |
| If I was you I wouldn’t hang with no ducks |
| Blue-ball dogs never could bust, but this is us |
| And we’re known for kickin up dust and play no games |
| Plus we up in here like Rogaine — hold, mane |
| And even though we divide we multiply |
| By the division of niggas who still in it to ride |
| Around here they call me Shoot-It-B, it fit for the dice |
| Hit em up two times or I throw trips trice |
| Dependin on the day I may give you a walk |
| Try to save you from a six and peein out on the chalk |
| Your nigga had to learn the hard way that family fight |
| Might bet against cuz to see my brother get right |
| I go hard till the end till the dropping is finished |
| Or clips empty, police in the vicinity |
| My bank ain’t in the million but my army is there |
| My loot’ll gun a man, shoot the style of braids out your hair |
| B’s and all, catch you in a club or more |
| (?) your man (?) |
| Give him a (?) stab and poke his kidneys |
| Flee in the red d boy, big truck series |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA |
| Where the weak get dissed every day |