Lordz Of Brooklyn Lob Sound Lyrics

Lob Sound Lyrics

[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]