Sweet Home
B.A.M.A. Lyrics
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Yo, we're here to put it down with the Lord
(I'm wit dat)
Blaze him, blaze him wit a 4
Cash blow loco I bring the heat to the street
'cause ya don't know
Brooklyn military killin' every motherfucker in sight
(Strap bombs)
Explode, watch me switch modes
Grab a clutch pop a gear, now I'm in flip mode
Niggaz gash on 99 octane fuel
You deserve a swift kick in your ass 'cause you's a mule
We keep on duckin' from the firing squad
First you thought you was hard now you calling a guard
Like I'm, oh my Lord, have mercy
Please talk to Little Fame 'cause he's fixing to merk me
I roll through your hood like it's my hood
And won't have a second thought about if I could nigga
(Home sweet home)
It ain't nothing sweet down here
Guns pop for niggas to eat down here
(Brooklyn)
Home sweet home
Clack, clack, salute, salute I'm never alone
Brooklyn, send 'em back home
Brooklyn, send 'em back home where you at
Home sweet home
Clack, clack, salute, salute I'm never alone
Brooklyn, send 'em back home
Brooklyn, send 'em back home where you at
(Lord have mercy)
Never bring be are double O K, bring size into it
Sneak 9's into it, thieves rise into it
Seek crime, blow through it, see shines, go to it
Street name, tweak game, rob you stupid
(Stupid)
Big trucks, dick ones ride exclusive
You don't know me, and never will
It's cold streets, don't approach me, we never build
Nigga, home of the pick pockets
Four fifth polish, lift wallets
Notorious like Chris Wallace
(Brooklyn)
We dollar cab hop from bad block to bad block
Coppers crash spots with pad locks get backed up
Handcuffed, chasing grands in tha wastelands
(Nigga)
These boys in tha hood, we poison your hood
Downtown swinging, loud bring noise in your hood
C'mon)
Home sweet home
Clack, clack, salute, salute I'm never alone
Brooklyn, send 'em back home
Brooklyn, send 'em back home where you at
Home sweet home
Clack, clack, salute, salute I'm never alone
Brooklyn, send 'em back home
Brooklyn, send 'em back home where you at
Now everybody rise to the occasion, duck when I'm aiming
(First family!)
Yeah, it's so amazing, the hell I be raising
Is from the hell I was raised in
It ain't nann nigga fadin shit, I come equipped
I put my life on the line for mine every time
Bitch, come and march with these Brooklyn soldiers
You'll talk wit em, bark when you talk to these crooked ass cobras
Hollered at
(Bum, bum)
Fired at
(Gun noises)
Fire back every time with my cousin
Doin' the unthinkable, the unthinkable Danze, still comin'
Gunning, you'll see the hilltops styling me
I studied Brownsville criminology
(Yes)
If you know a nigga as well as me
You better bring a mother fuckin' calvary
Bless
Home sweet home
Clack, clack, salute, salute I'm never alone
Brooklyn, send 'em back home
Brooklyn, send 'em back home where you at
Home sweet home
Clack, clack, salute, salute I'm never alone
Brooklyn, send 'em back home
Brooklyn, send 'em back home where you at
It is difficult to provide an interpretation for the lyrics above as they appear to belong to a different song entirely by the hip hop duo M.O.P. and not "Sweet Home Alabama" by B.A.M.A. Therefore, it is recommended that the requestor provides the correct lyrics.
Unfortunately, as there are no lyrics for "Sweet Home Alabama" in the request, an interpretation cannot be given.
Line by Line Meaning
Yo, home skillet, get back 'fore I push your shit back
I am warning you to step away before I take action against you.
Blaze him, blaze him wit a 4
I will deal with him using extreme force and aggression.
Cash blow loco I bring the heat to the street
I have money and power and am ready to take on any challenges on the street.
Brooklyn military killin' every motherfucker in sight
People from Brooklyn are fierce and unafraid, and will fight to the death if necessary.
Like I'm, oh my Lord, have mercy
I am in a tough situation and am in desperate need of divine intervention.
Please talk to Little Fame 'cause he's fixing to merk me
I am in a dangerous situation and need someone to help me out before I'm hurt or killed.
It ain't nothing sweet down here
Life in this place is hard and unforgiving, with no place for weakness or sentimentality.
Guns pop for niggas to eat down here
Guns are a common solution to problems and struggles in this area.
You don't know me, and never will
I am a mystery and cannot be easily understood or predicted by others.
We dollar cab hop from bad block to bad block
We travel from one dangerous area to another using taxis that are cheap but not always safe.
Coppers crash spots with pad locks get backed up
Police officers raid and lock down places where illegal activities are happening, causing chaos and resistance.
Downtown swinging, loud bring noise in your hood
We bring an intimidating presence and cause trouble and trouble wherever we go.
Bitch, come and march with these Brooklyn soldiers
Join us if you dare and be ready to fight alongside us and face the consequences that come with it.
You'll talk wit em, bark when you talk to these crooked ass cobras
Be careful and respectful when you deal with us because we are aggressive and unpredictable.
If you know a nigga as well as me
If you are familiar with someone as much as you are familiar with me.
You better bring a mother fuckin' calvary
You will need to bring a large group of people to face off against me and my allies.
Clack, clack, salute, salute I'm never alone
I am always armed and ready, and have a group of people supporting me wherever I go.
Brooklyn, send 'em back home
We will fight to protect our territory and send anyone who tries to disrupt it away.
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network
Written by: Dominick Lamb, Eric Murry, Jamal Gerard Grinnage, Wayne Notise, DOMINICK J LAMB, ERIC MURRAY, JAMAL GRINNAGE, W NOTISE
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind