The Brooklyn Uptown Connection Lyrics

Yeah
1-2, get ready
Cause this is how we do it
We got my man Soundwave in the house, Alien Nation
To my nigga the low-down dirty drop-out from high school, Big Ill
And me Mr. Raspy, Al Skratch
To my nigga LIC representin Conspiracy
Yeah
Soundwave, break em off

[ VERSE 1: Soundwave ]
You say you never heard the Sound
I'm about to break em off somethin right now
Open up your mind and let me in
Knock-knock, who speaks in the voice of sin?
Must drop to your knees, please just listen
A tale of four blackmen reminiscin
I hover in the heavens like a celestial guardian
The one who blocks the bullets when you're wildin out partyin
Believe in the MC cause you can see me not
Soundwave, faster than the dot on the Glock
Non-stop cyber-funkin, let me tell you somethin
Bout that guy named Al Skratch, the Mack Big Ill, LIC
This is virtual reality
A rap fantasy of the life of four beings
Seen through the eyes of the one foreseeing
Funkin em up, come on to the right
I'm funkin em up, come on to the left
The Uptown Connect gonna funk you to death

[ VERSE 2: Al Skratch & Big Ill the Mack ]
Who wanna fuck around, who wanna clown
With two niggas from the Brooklyn Uptown underground
Well, it's the backstabber, the double-crosssin alki
Stagger as I'm babblin, so nigga please don't doubt me
When I was ten they took my flick at the precint
Back in the days I was a juvenile delinquent
So don't fuck with me cause I'm psychotic
I kick the hard shit and let my man get melodic
Aiyo, I'm rollin, rollin, rollin
I'll lump you up and leave you swollen
The mic that I'm holdin is golden
Patrollin straight out the fiery pits
I turn a page as my diary gets
Deeper, I see this Mack type figure, who is he?
Bitches wanna know, so Ill get busy
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Tu madre ( ? )
That means your mama wanna suck my dick, faggot
The bitch is a hoe so you know I'm gonna bag it
We makin moves over funky fat grooves
And to crews that don't paid dues we bad news
So who wanna gangbang, tell me who can hang; slang
Is what I kick, stay off my dick, chitty-bang-bang
With the glock you could swing on my block
And I'll knock the shit out of your ass with the quick fast
Who wanna fuck around, who wanna clown
With two niggas from the Brooklyn Uptown underground
Who wanna fuck around, who wanna clown
With two niggas from the Brooklyn Uptown underground

[ VERSE 3: LIC ]
Here it is, steppin to my biz with the free flow steelo
Headcrackin niggas like celo
Comin from below the gutter, I'm quick with my cutter
For a fronter tryin to front, word to mother
On a microphone alone in a zone of danger
With rhymes written on my bullets in a chamber
Word up, you never heard of one murder one felon
Bustin more slugs in thugs indulge in drug-sellin
I stack greenbacks from the wizzacks
Give up raw facts for niggas fakin jacks
Rhymes come in all flavors, I'm makin crazy papers
Cuttin suckers with razors in faces, beatin body cases
LIC, I'm givin lashes, slashes
Holdin classes, controllin masses, bustin asses
Just when I put the ambush to spots
Bustin my mics like Glocks, robbin niggas for they props
The flow is on point, on target, sharp, accurate
Lyrical gun clips I pack you with, then clap you with
Rhyme after rhzzyme, time after time
Like a career criminal committin crime after crime
A gun-clapper ( ? ) type of rapper
LIC, code name come-off-the-head master
Flowin at a high velocity possibly
MC's might snitch, call the cops on me
But it's aight cause I got my peeps here with me
LIC representin Conspiracy
One love baby
The Uptown connection
Ill and Al Skratch
and the whole muthafuckin crew
I'm out