Dirty Green

Lyrics

[Intro: Brooklyn Academy] Brooklyn Ac', niggas [Hook: Icon] Yo, yo, ayyo, we need money for my niggas to keep money Our seeds hungry, so I sleep and breathe money It's Brooklon. We getting it on, we deep, money Brooklyn Ac' clapping the map and keep money [Verse 1: Icon] No chain on my neck. New cat claiming respect I'm not a doctor but I could stop the pain in your chest Fuck killing y'all niggas—I'm hanging the flesh I'll draw two guns to you, demand my respect And the shit that I write? Believe that it's true 'Cause if you cross my path once, you leaving in two Or in the back of a ambulance, breathing in tubes So when you die, they'll resurrect you like king of the Jews Stating my name for niggas on the back of the train With a three-dollar Metro card, flashing they chain And, no, I don't got money. Don't ask me again 'Til my first of the month—niggas cashing they check [Hook: Icon] Yo, ayyo, we need money for my niggas to keep money Our seeds hungry, so I sleep and breathe money It's Brooklon. We getting it on, we deep, money Brooklyn Ac' clapping the map and keep money [Verse 2: Pumpkinhead] We got the block locked like Giuliani in The Village I'm the type to steal your watch, turn around and change my image That's just the life I'm living. Enticing women Who rock ice and linen. It's like playing dice for millions The mic I'm ripping, Baccardi light-sipping Don't start tripping—Brooklyn Ac' won every fight we've been in I heist the Chrysler building. Hide the wife and children I got the massive plan, attracting fans with new additions Like Michael Bivins, so all hail. We getting money and won't fail And guzzle champagne from the Holy Grail You know me well. I'm hard to kill like Seagal Except no ponytail. Your crew is frail We fighting tooth and nail. Check SoundScan for proof of sale Let the truth prevail: we getting cream by any means like you's in jail The "Con Artist" like Judas. For thirty pieces of silver, I'll kill y'all, I'm moving this [Hook: Icon] (x2) Yo, yo, ayyo, we need money for my niggas to keep money Our seeds hungry, so I sleep and breathe money It's Brooklon. We getting it on, we deep, money Brooklyn Ac' clapping the map and keep money [Verse 3: Mr. Metaphor] This be that grade-A shit, the top of the line That money, payday shit, French cheese and wine Yo, the fans stay lit with a twist of lime But when the Ac' stage flip, lose control of your mind In your old basement, bombs bump in my lines I'm like a gold bracelet in the Sun when it shines I leave your whole face lit from the soul in my rhyme And you could almost taste it. Son, we rightful divine Feel the bass drum kick under your feet Watch me say some dumb shit like, "Who did this beat?" We move for the street, feed you with a spoon through your teeth The sooner we eat, the sooner I'ma turn a new leaf I'm burning beneath. The music made me turn in my sleep Burning the beat, slowly got you slurring your speech Numbing your mouth, fucking with the nerves in your cheeks You nervous to speak. We feed you from the curb to the street [Hook: Icon] Ayyo, we need money for my niggas to keep money Our seeds hungry, so I sleep and breathe money It's Brooklon. We getting it on, we deep, money Brooklyn Ac' clapping the map and keep money [Verse 4: Block McCloud] You got the nerve to ask can I flow when you damn well know Who ran the show, and, on the Mic, I'm –angelo Blessed with flows like John the Baptist, songs we practice Strong as Atlas, [hard cheeks?] [the carpets/coffins matches?] I want dough like Johnny Mathis Chicks with the strongest asses, bony catfish on the mattress I want my fans beyond this nation I want my family on location at a Grammy nomination I'm the Block—who gonna block me? I could be cocky like Rocky—won't get cocky 'cause that's not me I'm McCloud—who gonna cloud me? I could see clearly now, G. There, ain't this Audi? I don't doubt me Represent the Ac' proudly We could astound, abound soundly with our sounds from Kings County Collect a bounty on a munity 'cause loot be The root of evil—people, pirates split the booty I'm chopping meat and packing parts of for sale in Western beef Pick on you to force the residue that's left in teeth You rest in pieces, your momma left in grief for ya Manhattan keep on making it, Brooklyn keep on thieving ya [Hook: Icon] (x2) Yo, yo, ayyo, we need money for my niggas to keep money Our seeds hungry, so I sleep and breathe money It's Brooklon. We getting it on, we deep, money Brooklyn Ac' clapping the map and keep money