[Verse One]
Nowhere to run nowhere to hide it`s the Lordz of Brooklyn Kings County do or die
Switchblades for the rumble we`re Lordz we brass knuckle
Graffiti never died I made my name in the tunnel
It`s all about the fame I came to rain on you warriors
Lordz...Come out to play
You tried the rest try the best the L-O-R-D-Z of Brooklyn
Like the Dodgers not the bums but we`re the bombers
There`s a lotta sucker groups they be talkin` `bout the troops but we burn them
motherfuckers like tar beach on my roof
Cause I been around the block doin` proud by my pop
I said he worked on the dock busted chumps in his shop
Cause when you`re a Lord you`re a Lord all the way
From your first cigarette to your last dyin` day
[Chorus]
Turn it up y`all
Here comes that sound
The Lordz of Brooklyn Sound!
Again and again and again and again and again and again
[Verse Two: performed by ADMoney]
Organized freakin` crime dirty ducky boy
A hot 110 on you little dumb toys
Cause I crash ya bash ya straight up harass ya
Lemme tell ya something - Yo who the fuck asked ya?
It`s the Lordz of Brooklyn hittin` hard with a bat
Here come the Lordz puttin` Brooklyn on the map
You can`t get with that you can`t get with this
The Lordz walk the tracks way deep in the Ridge
Take a lotta pride stay the fuck off my turf
I`m feelin` kind of tipsy yo somebody`s gettin` hurt
From the Verrazano Bridge to the brawls in the park
Yo we claimed our mark bustin` heads in the bar
So step to the side I`m on the edge of suicide
Try to claim the fame I`ma snuff you in the eye
Give you a swift kick in the ass real fast
Mess with AdMoney I`ma put you in the past
I never pack a gatt cause I`d rather fight with a pipe
Just like a fuckin` Guinea bring a knife to a gunfight
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
Cause you`re listenin` to the Lordz of Brooklyn
Couldn`t understand it till your shit got tookin`
Step on my block hardrock get dropped
Keep your mouth shut when you`re talkin` to a cop
Hold it up hold it up L. O.B.`s at the door
Just another stick up everybody hit the floor
We`re out Saturday night still stayin` alive
You can find the Lordz of Brooklyn gettin` drunk in some dive
We`re some pugilists not afraid to get our hands twisted
Like the Duke got your grip put `em up fight `em bare fisted
Strike picket make way for the union labor
Ticket tape parade I couldn`t be no traitor
Cause when you`re a Lord you`re a Lord all the way
From your first cigarette to your last dyin` day
[Chorus]
