🎵 32nd St. Down (The East Side Story) // by The Krown Rulers

1 Contributor32nd St. Down (The East Side Story) Lyrics [Intro] The underworld We're scored by sale The strong survive when the system fail For every b-boy a lesson, a moral belief Some bite the bullet, some wear the wreath [Verse 1] When you come around you better keep it safe These are street-wise facts in a hardcore bass East side overpowers, we teach the young Unity is the truth so the song is sung Everyday is like a struggle, a fight to life Don't sweat it, go and get it or lose your rights Black is more beauty than a flower that fades The street grows rougher and sound for days Thanks is due to the mighty God 32nd Street down, so even is odd Still boys are poetic men Black power's in the palm of my hand 32nd Street down [Verse 2] I'd like to tell you a fact or two We formed a posse and a hip-hop crew From back in the day I used to watch the war Went downtown and 28th Street [?] the score Seven [?] dawn to dusk And North Cackalack was a b-boy [?] In spite of this and all the smoke Every time there was a party on the mic I spoke It's just chill or so they think Friday nights wild west at a skating rink Pushing a Ville in Fairview Well, they both [?] a silent yell Now is the time I must present this picture The black get blacker, the black get richer Three-two, we got the ultimate flow Cadillacs with the dark-tint windows [?] mad girlies when the girlies are wet And only high rollers can roam the set Territorial rights, all talks should cease And you better be strapped if you're battling east three-two down! [Verse 3] I was there on the trey-deuce, the hustlers play Everyday, every way is a form of pay Dollars on dollars, each heart's its own Many [?] in the trooper zone It gets wild at night so you gotta be brown When you step on the set give a round of pound Boys don't play, we're rougher than nails Never do a crime if you can't post bail B-boy academy, the girlies skeez [?] down, 'cause they're clocking G's HR1, the hustler's row East side got juice and other b-boys know Suckers on the tip don't slip or trip If you riff a bit you get pistol-whipped By girls all around getting paid's a thing I live in East Camden where the money is dream [Verse 4] No one's a king in search of a throne One empire, bigger than Rome Black rhythm, created over top of drums Skyscrapers stand tall where I come from Grand Pubah, exact, engraved in blood This time it's fire, and first to flood MCs on the mic preach stories I've seen Wack to a brother, who's chasing a dream Fake words [?] and think the joke sounds funny When the battle cry is nothing but to make money Go three-two! Make money! Go three-two! Make money! Go three-two! Make money! Go, go, go, go, go! [Verse 5] Down here, when we have to fight We can pull metal but we do things right Beat you down with our fists, make you feel like a punk So you know it's risk when you pop off junk Hollywood, G-Nice, [?] and Sam, Mike Dough, Tone Bone, Fred Rock, Cool Bam Mouse, Dave, plus G and Rob The original brothers of the three-two mob Respect, Kwan D and Rahlee Kevy Kev, Chuck C, Malik and Tali From way back when the arms were raised The block still stands so the posse's praised Never take shorts, we never say die Back by the [?] and a open sky Out there, where the evil [?] From a pocket of another equals a score Somehow, we gotta get time Many ask why, we still grind Money is nothing to a poet Some are bluffing, and I know it Has to be another way to rule my crown Black power's in the mic 'cause I'm three-two down I'm three-two down Yeah, you know what I'm saying