| Song | Welcome to Bucktown USA |
| Artist | Boot Camp Clik |
| Artist | Supreme |
| Artist | Scratch |
| Album | The Chosen Few |
| 作词 : Blake, Matlock, Muniz ... | |
| (Supreme) | |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA | |
| (Tek) | |
| Yeah | |
| Smokin on some of that sticky icky for my nigga | |
| I said for my nigga who do that joint back there | |
| That's Scratch from The Roots, you heard me? | |
| Listen up, learn something | |
| (VERSE 1: Supreme of The Representativz) | |
| Hey yo, it's real out here | |
| You better know the drill out here | |
| Son, you better pack steel out here | |
| The minute you show fear you get killed out here | |
| I seen niggas slip and lose they will out here | |
| Word, playin the curb where crack rock and lleyo is served | |
| Watchin for beast so they don't observe | |
| Another day another hustle, nigga, stay in your swerve | |
| I stay focused and never let it weigh on my nerves | |
| Back on the block where young thugs blast for they props | |
| Trash the glock through a 100 yard dash on a cop | |
| Got half the p's runnin while the other half watch | |
| And when it's hot stash the work in your sock or get knocked | |
| This is a dirty game, so play it to win | |
| And watch them niggas, they some devious men | |
| You either love me or hate me, ain't no need to pretend | |
| Cause fake friends always wind up enemies in the end | |
| (CHORUS: Buckshot) | |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA | |
| Where the weak get dissed every day | |
| (Bucktown is the state of mind that I'm trapped in) | |
| (Lawd, some bwoy gon' get dead tonight) | |
| (VERSE 2: Steele) | |
| Bucktown USA, where it all started | |
| Respect to the products and the dearly departed | |
| Bow Leg Dimples, Dotty and Janie | |
| Rob and Smiley made me, the community raised me | |
| Mom left pops, moved to the Eighties | |
| Canarsie hookey parties was crazy | |
| Glenwood P's, watch for the d's who down in the trenches | |
| Playin the benches, rappin to release tension | |
| When Ru got sentenced I knew they meant business | |
| When Bo got hit, shit, I knew we had to flip this | |
| PNC, BCC, Genereal S-t-double e-l-e | |
| We do this like we do this cause we all family | |
| Known as some of the truest in this industry | |
| Contract combat left casualties | |
| Duck down when you're marked on target and I squeeze | |
| (CHORUS) | |
| (VERSE 3: Buckshot) | |
| I walk up with my boots tight | |
| Laced up by my leg, I'm beyond your reg hood type | |
| And half of you dudes is like | |
| Hollywood rap act that belong on a movie site | |
| Come on aight, admit it | |
| You really wanna come into my hood but you know it's not good to come up in it | |
| Cause everyday we on a mission | |
| Don't slip, don't snooze, when you move through disciplined | |
| Listen, never think it's all gravy, it could be yours, baby | |
| They'll even take from your lady; and boo | |
| If I was you I wouldn't hang with no ducks | |
| Blue-ball dogs never could bust, but this is us | |
| And we're known for kickin up dust and play no games | |
| Plus we up in here like Rogaine - hold, mane | |
| And even though we divide we multiply | |
| By the division of niggas who still in it to ride | |
| (CHORUS) | |
| (VERSE 4: Tek) | |
| Around here they call me Shoot-It-B, it fit for the dice | |
| Hit em up two times or I throw trips trice | |
| Dependin on the day I may give you a walk | |
| Try to save you from a six and peein out on the chalk | |
| Your nigga had to learn the hard way that family fight | |
| Might bet against cuz to see my brother get right | |
| I go hard till the end till the dropping is finished | |
| Or clips empty, police in the vicinity | |
| My bank ain't in the million but my army is there | |
| My loot'll gun a man, shoot the style of braids out your hair | |
| B's and all, catch you in a club or more | |
| ( ? ) your man ( ? ) | |
| Give him a ( ? ) stab and poke his kidneys | |
| Flee in the red d boy, big truck series | |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA | |
| Where the weak get dissed every day | |
| (CHORUS) |
| zuò cí : Blake, Matlock, Muniz ... | |
| Supreme | |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA | |
| Tek | |
| Yeah | |
| Smokin on some of that sticky icky for my nigga | |
| I said for my nigga who do that joint back there | |
| That' s Scratch from The Roots, you heard me? | |
| Listen up, learn something | |
| VERSE 1: Supreme of The Representativz | |
| Hey yo, it' s real out here | |
| You better know the drill out here | |
| Son, you better pack steel out here | |
| The minute you show fear you get killed out here | |
| I seen niggas slip and lose they will out here | |
| Word, playin the curb where crack rock and lleyo is served | |
| Watchin for beast so they don' t observe | |
| Another day another hustle, nigga, stay in your swerve | |
| I stay focused and never let it weigh on my nerves | |
| Back on the block where young thugs blast for they props | |
| Trash the glock through a 100 yard dash on a cop | |
| Got half the p' s runnin while the other half watch | |
| And when it' s hot stash the work in your sock or get knocked | |
| This is a dirty game, so play it to win | |
| And watch them niggas, they some devious men | |
| You either love me or hate me, ain' t no need to pretend | |
| Cause fake friends always wind up enemies in the end | |
| CHORUS: Buckshot | |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA | |
| Where the weak get dissed every day | |
| Bucktown is the state of mind that I' m trapped in | |
| Lawd, some bwoy gon' get dead tonight | |
| VERSE 2: Steele | |
| Bucktown USA, where it all started | |
| Respect to the products and the dearly departed | |
| Bow Leg Dimples, Dotty and Janie | |
| Rob and Smiley made me, the community raised me | |
| Mom left pops, moved to the Eighties | |
| Canarsie hookey parties was crazy | |
| Glenwood P' s, watch for the d' s who down in the trenches | |
| Playin the benches, rappin to release tension | |
| When Ru got sentenced I knew they meant business | |
| When Bo got hit, shit, I knew we had to flip this | |
| PNC, BCC, Genereal Stdouble ele | |
| We do this like we do this cause we all family | |
| Known as some of the truest in this industry | |
| Contract combat left casualties | |
| Duck down when you' re marked on target and I squeeze | |
| CHORUS | |
| VERSE 3: Buckshot | |
| I walk up with my boots tight | |
| Laced up by my leg, I' m beyond your reg hood type | |
| And half of you dudes is like | |
| Hollywood rap act that belong on a movie site | |
| Come on aight, admit it | |
| You really wanna come into my hood but you know it' s not good to come up in it | |
| Cause everyday we on a mission | |
| Don' t slip, don' t snooze, when you move through disciplined | |
| Listen, never think it' s all gravy, it could be yours, baby | |
| They' ll even take from your lady and boo | |
| If I was you I wouldn' t hang with no ducks | |
| Blueball dogs never could bust, but this is us | |
| And we' re known for kickin up dust and play no games | |
| Plus we up in here like Rogaine hold, mane | |
| And even though we divide we multiply | |
| By the division of niggas who still in it to ride | |
| CHORUS | |
| VERSE 4: Tek | |
| Around here they call me ShootItB, it fit for the dice | |
| Hit em up two times or I throw trips trice | |
| Dependin on the day I may give you a walk | |
| Try to save you from a six and peein out on the chalk | |
| Your nigga had to learn the hard way that family fight | |
| Might bet against cuz to see my brother get right | |
| I go hard till the end till the dropping is finished | |
| Or clips empty, police in the vicinity | |
| My bank ain' t in the million but my army is there | |
| My loot' ll gun a man, shoot the style of braids out your hair | |
| B' s and all, catch you in a club or more | |
| nbsp? your man nbsp? | |
| Give him a nbsp? stab and poke his kidneys | |
| Flee in the red d boy, big truck series | |
| Welcome to Bucktown USA | |
| Where the weak get dissed every day | |
| CHORUS |