Breuklen

Broken Land

This is where I was born 

Was named and gave much to. man

So the testament of coming from her can be worn 

The mother of the heights no Jackson

Where blastin chunes can be relaxin or taxin

We can partay on the eastern breeze Parkway oh fosho, where masqueraders’ feathers and jewels are laid

Delayed from passin somebody, who know somebody who know who their dating, who you dap keep it pushin and away again their fading

Don’t you know

Ain’t nothing more reala’

The mother of the villa, village so Mela brown they call it the slums

No mellow sounds when gunshots turn to drums

Throwin Pharaoh crowns in the streets like crumbs

Dust can’t settle down cause the vice that got them dumb

is socioeconomics on they gums, in they lungs

The mother of the Stuy, 

where dusts settles into the eye from bedrock stones 4 stories high, 

where them sandcastles constantly cry, Prolly like Biggie said they gotta be ready to die, do or die do or die

Talkin to itself like

Why am I fighting to live if I’m just living to fight

Why am I trying to see when there ain’t nothing in sight?

Why am I trying to give when no one gives me a try

Why am I dying to live if I’m just living to die

A nigga county kingdom that catches the eye of those who seek the trendiest buy as a steal or a prize, and them prices be so damn awry, cause its gentrification guys.

And when blood is shed and fed to the hungry ground

It takes in and finds its way

to the underground, Subway 

cause everyone going for a ride got a part of them that’s died already

I call us the catacomb creepas, oh my fault, the batabomb breepas

But it's where you can have a midst of adornment 

When the stop is Hoyt-Schermerhorn and

Its lonely platform was once where 

2 Kadilahs and a peddler took on 4, he tried to kill

Her and friends, but courage freed them, still

Her is the mother

When the stop is Brooklyn Bridge

And the road in front of you is a stitch, no need to fix or undo

You tell yourself issa stretch that you can ease down cause that ain’t new

It was done once before

And there you are, Land of Oz in all its glory, nothing gorrey just possibility

That places the epiphany in front of you

That all along you’ve always had the power

To make a change if you want to

To make your name glow cause you went through the glass ceiling

Sojourning through a tough life can get you 

If you let it but I bet it just took finding your own magic 

to effect it, 

The mother of where games are played of how many zombies you see

Where my thirteen year old cousin call me and the fam to give us the plan of how to move, which streets to choose to walk down so you don’t get stalked roun, till your body’s chalked down, all cause of a war, 

someone played God cause you was collateral, cause shit went left

Yet, mos def,  I still got mad love for my gritty city

Shit ain’t always pretty but

Where Brooklyn at?

Where Brooklyn at?

Its in me