[Verse One]
|
Put the pedal to the metal let's turn it out
|
Let's show these motherfuckers what it's all about
|
Is it all about the pride all about the crowd
|
Run from a cop never drop on a dime
|
Put your hands up cause I'm clockin' dough
|
Don't never say a white boy ain't got no soul
|
I ain't on parole never snitch to a fed
|
Yo the only fuckin' singin' is your girl in my bed
|
I'm sick up to here with this and that
|
I ain't pushin' crack so step the hell back
|
It's the Lordz of Brooklyn in the house here to turn it out
|
Right in your face punk what's it all about?
|
|
[Chorus]
|
I'm out to bomb!
|
Put it up! Get it on!
|
I'm out to bomb!
|
Put it up! Get it on!
|
|
[Verse Two]
|
I set sail like the holy grail the crusader don't cater to no shit that's frail
|
Take me to the catacomb on the dragon's chrome
|
After dark I leave my mark like it's etched in stone
|
I'm pure white heat I take a quantum leap
|
I'm coming deep in the night like a nightmare in your sleep
|
Like a Viking funeral I'm leaving shit burned
|
I said clowns get drowned when the tide gets turned
|
We're the Lordz we sport the crowns we're the kings underground
|
What comes around goes around and it brings you right down
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Verse Three]
|
I'm on a sixth probation or should I say vacation
|
Vickin' motherfuckers when they're steppin' in my station
|
Stalkin' through the tunnel with a shank in my hand
|
Penetrate that fuckin' lung let it flow like a dam
|
Something's up with Kaves something's up with Kaves
|
Yo you gotta get made made
|
Yo you gotta get paid paid
|
I'm the king of enamel the crazy ducky boy wearing flannel
|
I climb the Verrazano eat my pasta with Romano
|
The Brooklyn mutt is about to go rabid
|
Killin' motherfuckers is my only bad habit
|
Punks jump up and I'm doin' 'em
|
My Louisville broke so I switched to aluminum
|
Yo lemme tell you somethin' about the Verrazano Boys
|
We made a lot of noise beatin' up them toys
|
If you stepped to the crew or even walked on the fame
|
You know you got stomped by a big ink stain
|
1995 we're called Lordz of Brooklyn
|
Step on the turf and your wallet's gettin' tookin'
|
Vamped thrown to the curb had a lotta nerve to steppin' on my turf
|
Now you're gettin' whacked! Pow! Whacked with a bat
|
Now you're suckin' on the dust from my black Cadillac
|
Here I come big shots it's ADM
|
Leader of the pack who don't give a damn
|
Pass me the wine lemme throw it down
|
You heard what's on my mind now check the sound
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Out To Bomb
|
| Lordz Of Brooklyn |
