When they kick out your front door
|
How you gonna come?
|
With your hands on your head
|
Or on the trigger of your gun?
|
|
When the law break in
|
How you gonna go?
|
Shot down on the pavement
|
Or waiting in death row?
|
|
You can crush us
|
You can bruise us
|
But you'll have to answer to
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
|
The money feels good
|
And your life, you like it well
|
But surely your time will come
|
As in heaven, as in hell
|
|
You see, he feels like Ivan
|
Born under the Brooklyn sun
|
His game is called survivin'
|
At the end of the harder they come
|
|
You know it means no mercy
|
They caught him with a gun
|
No need for the Black Maria
|
Goodbye to the Brooklyn sun
|
|
You can crush us
|
You can bruise us
|
But you'll have to answer to
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
|
When they kick out your front door
|
How you gonna come?
|
With your hands on your head
|
Or on the trigger of your gun?
|
|
You can crush us
|
You can bruise us
|
Or even shoot us but
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
|
You can crush us
|
You can bruise us
|
But you'll have to answer to
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
Oh, the guns of Brooklyn
|
|
-----------------
|
Guns Of Brooklyn
|
| Santigold |
