| Boom bash dash, I had to break, I had to getaway
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| Packed my bags, to leave for good, it was a Monday
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| Kissed my mother, gave my pops a pound
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| Then he hugged me, and then he turned around
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| I threw the duffelbag over my shoulder
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| It was time to get props kid, cause now I’m older
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| Time to fend for myself jack
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| So I’mma go for mine, and maybe never come back
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| Stopped at the lye spot before I hit the train station
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| Needed some boom for the mental relaxation
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| It took the last of my loot to make this move, troop
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| But I ain’t even tryin to work in a suit
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| Plus my aunt’s got a room that’s for rent
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| As long as there’s no hoes and I don’t come home bent
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| So fuck the bullshit, I’m Audi
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| I’m on a mission, cause if I stay I’ll go crazy
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| I’m gonna make it god damnit
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| Out in B-R-double-O-K-Lyn, The Planet
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| They never fake it just slam it
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| Out in B-R-O-O-K-Lyn, The Planet
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| Crash boom bang I used to hang at Four Corners
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| And all the spots in Beantown where niggas carry burners
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| But I was more turned on by the microphone
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| So one cold morning, I left home
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| Next I’m smokin blunts on Van Siclen
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| Or workin in a mail room Uptown, feelin sick and
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| Tired, of payin all these fucked up dues
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| I wasn’t tryin to lose -- I refused
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| Had a chick Uptown, one in Queens and one in Jersey
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| Sometimes all you need to get by, is a girlie
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| But yo I still wasn’t happy
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| I seen a lot of ill shit on my block, happen nightly
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| East New York is no joke kid
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| And peace to my man Hass doin his bid
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| I went to Flatbush to buy incense and weed
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| Stopped at the bookstands for somethin to read
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| That shit was rough cause my pockets was bare
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| And like the sayin goes, sometimes life ain’t fair
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| But in my heart there ain’t no quittin
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| So I stayed up late, to write some rhymes to some rhythms
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| Seconds away from just flippin
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| But fuckit I’ll maintain, one day I’ll be hittin
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| See I’mma make it god damnit
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| Out in B-R-double-O-K-Lyn, The Planet
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| I’ll never fake it just slam it
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| There in B-R-O-O-K-Lyn, The Planet
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| And you can, walk the walk talk the talk but don’t flaunt
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| Cause little shorty’s scheamin on your rings and fronts
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| But don’t sweat it, cause that’s the life out here
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| A lot of niggas, be livin real trife out here
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| I got my own place in Bed-Stuy
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| Known to many others, as Do or Die
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| Malcolm X Boulevard and Gates Avenue
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| Smokin up the fat trey bags with the crew
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| Me and the niggas Troy and Squeaky
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| Used to twist Dutch Masters, we got nice weekly
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| I used to build with the brothers by the spot
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| They had to hustle but they still knew a lot
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| To get my haircut had to go to Fort Greene
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| On Myrtle Ave, to get a fade with the sides clean
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| Then to Fulton just to look around
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| Just to roam around, and find a chick to go Uptown
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| And check a movie or some shit like that
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| I couldn’t spend much but yo my game was fat
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| I remember this one chick, she brought me a beeper
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| Then one week later, she got me some sneakers
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| But then I stepped, cause I found out about her rep
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| And I ain’t goin out bein no bitch’s pet
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| But anyway I used to lay up in the crib
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| Listening to Red and Marley, wishin I was on kid
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| Saved my dough, stayed on the down low
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| Lounged and drank 40s with Tommy, Hill and Gusmoe
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| And Lil' Dap used to come by strapped
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| Nice off a L cause we stayed like that
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| Sometimes I used to miss my moms
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| Gunshots in the twilight, people fightin every night
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| But I’mma be aight still
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| Cause I’mma keep writin shit and perfectin my skills
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| I’m gonna make it god damnit
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| Here in B-R-double-O-K-Lyn, The Planet
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| I never fake it just slam it
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| Here in B-R-O-O-K-Lyn, The Planet *echoes* |