Yo, check this out
Once again, Smif-N-Wessun in the joint one time (yeah, yeah)
Puttin' you punks to this newness
In '94, you know what I'm sayin'? (Violence on the rise)
Lock your doors, nobody's safe
You know what I'm sayin'? (Yeah)
Check it out, haha

I walk around town with the pound strapped down to my side
No frontin', just in case I gotta smoke somethin'
'Round here, heads don't act their age
You might be another dead bwoy pon page
Enter the cypher with your lighter
L's are ready, prepare for another all-nighter
But keep a watch for the cops 'cause they rock Glocks
Comin' on the block, tryna rock knots
Pigs be actin' like they're bigger than us niggas from the streets
'Cause we stalk mad deep and them walk beats
I guess them hold a grudge 'cause I won't budge
Playin' tough, starin' down the judge with my hands cuffed
Standin' there with my nappy hair and my dirty gear
Au revoir, yeah, now I'm up outta here
Pigs look me up and down with a frown
Is it because I'm brown or is it because I'm from Bucktown?

(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers

Got five emcee that wanna contest we
Got your nooses ready, hangin' over the trees
Bring on your sounds and get drowned by my massive
Kill you, batty boy, and hold your lover for hostage
Knock, knock, niggy, knock, that's four shots empty
On a violator that was sent out to get me
I'm tore up from the floor up and everythings Black
But Steele I'm on point, ready to Buck, ain't nothin' sweet, Jack
Bucktown, I represent it on the love, love
Deeply rooted from my Timbs to my dick above
Don't sweat the bulge comin' from my hip
Grip once you get hit when I let my tool click
Nowhere to run, ambush lurks in the dark
Heltah Skeltah smirks while you're gettin' torn apart
Here comes the rude bwoys with the ganja plants
Smif-N-Wessun, generals of the Boot Camp

(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the, hmm, home of the, hmm
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers

Another murderer, just another prankster
Rude bwoy dead 'cause him thought him was a gangster
Tried to live the life of a hood from the streets
Test the wrong dread now him in eternal sleep
Mr. Rippa, I lurk in the Stuy
Twist up the ganja when I wanna get high with my bredren
A buddha session, learn your lesson
Or get blasted by Mr. Smif or Mr. Wessun

Bucktown's everywhere, I swear
It's clear to me you feel the weed now I barely see
Nightfall 'round the way
Original heads come out to play, puff herb, break day
It's just a regular, everyday state of bein' I
Mind's holdin' weight, rhymes free the mind in time
I find reality follows me where I roam three-sixty degrees
Back home in

(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers
(Bucktown) home of the original gun-clappers

Once again, Smif-N-Wessun
And we do it like this
To my man Buckshot (yeah, yeah, Boot Camp)
Ruck and Rock
Ha, Bucktown Boot Camp, Evil Dee, Mr, Walt
Yo, roll that up that next sack (yeah)
Then we up outta here
Bucktown, what is is?
Rest in peace to my bredrin Rick Walt
You know what I'm sayin'? On the real
Yo, roll that up then

Copyright: MJJN LLC
Writer(s): Darryl Yates, Ewart Dewgarde, Tekomin Williams