And its Brooklyn
Brooklyn in the buildings
The buildings that
When pieced together
With the rest of the city
The full on beauty city
Merge together
In a skyline..
More specifically
�that skyline�
The one missin� those buildings
Buildings that went
From offices to graves
It�s a graveyard
I�m livin in cemetery
And we ain�t the only
People who are living
In tombstones
On a daily basis
Baghdad and neighboring
Cities carve dates in place
Of addresses
Addresses that still hear
A parade of gunshots.
Gunshots and bombs
Exploding in a eulogy
Eulogy that promises
The dead that their
Friends are coming soon.
And if you listen in Africa
Africa the wild woman
You�ll hear her screamin
A collective scream
Of hunger pains
Pains that burn the
Bottom of your belly
And those bellies bloat
Out like they are tryin
To escape the sadness
The sadness of the
Children they embody
Because the bodies
Of these babies
Pretty babies
Are infected
Are raped
Oh pretty babies
Like them pretty girls
Tossed aside in china
Lost inside of china
Babygirls beauty
Not seen, lyin in a cradle
Cradled in a crib
Stacked on top of another crib
In a orphanage overrun
With pretty babygirls
And when you grow up
Not grown up by any means
But when the first hint
Of womanhood finds you
Unwinds you, you�ll be pretty
In new ways, and sweet baby
You�ll be a new kind of girl
In world that prostitutes
Poverty, you�re poor
In a world that exploits
Beauty and womanly bodies
You have both
And god both will
Be used, and robbed
By men who lost themselves
Before they knew themselves
Taught to be cut with out tears
Pierced without bleeding
Bleed without hurting
Only thing you fear
Is intimacy,
But man by nature lusts
Lusts for that womanly beauty
So instead of loving
Loving full hearted
And risk losing, you steal
Stole the innocence from
these little girls
And can you hear it
Hear it right �round
Corner?
Corner �round the block
Corner �round the country
Hear it?
Hear the gunshots in the allies
Ringing out like eulogies
To backstreet families
Families that claim loyalties
To colors, and enemies.
By street numbers?
Destiny based on local
Geography, will
The lining in the coffin
Be red, or blue?
Hear the screamin of
Empty angry bellies
So angry they are ready
To bust out the bodies
That hold them - bust out
Just so they can stop yellin
Yellin for America to feed
Them something other
Than empty promises
Hungry for a kind of social justice.
A justice we can�t have with
Closed eyes
And plugged ears
�just listen
Do you hear the little girls?
Hear the innocence leave
Them babygirl bodies
Before they even know
They have it
Men so lost in a world so broken
That they take this sweetness
And show it with pride
Proud boys smellin of
That sweet sugar smell
That you only get from little girls
Can you see em?
See em here in my cemetery
Here in the graveyard
Yea right here in Brooklyn
Cause its Brooklyn in the buildings
Yea its Brooklyn
