32nd St. Down (The East Side Story) Chords

Lyrics & chords

[Verse 1]
The underworld [D]was scored by sale
The strong survive where the system fail
For every b -boy a lesson, a moral belief
Some bite the bullet,
some wear the wreath
When you come around,
you better keep it safe
These are streetwise facts
in a hardcore base
Each side overpowers,
we teach the young
Unity is the truth, so the song is sung
Every day's like a struggle,
a fight for life
Don't sweat it, go and get it,
or lose your rights
Black is more beauty than a father to face
The streets grow rougher,
and so do the days
Thanks is due to the mighty God
32nd Street down, so even it's odd
The still voice of a poetic man
Black power's in the palm of my hand
32nd Street down
I like to tell you a fact or two
We formed a posse and a hip -hop crew
From back in the day I
used to watch the war
When downtown and 28th
street shot the score
7 Crust, Dawn to Dusk
And North Cackalack was a b -boy lust
In spite of this and all the smoke
Every time there was a party
on the mic I spoke
It's just chill, or so they think,
Friday nights,
Wild West at a skating rink
Percent of guilt, and Fairview well,
they both spoke a silent yell
Now is the time, I must present this picture,
the black kid blacker, the black kid richer
3 -2, we got the ultimate flow,
Cadillacs,
with the dark tan windows
Live to make gullies when
the gullies are wet,
and only high rollers can
roam the set
Territorial rights, all torques, you cease
And you'd better be strapped
If you're battling E3 -2 DAMN!
Out there on the traystews
The hustle's plain
Everyday every way is a form of pain
Dollars on dollars
Each heart's his own
Many eyes cry in the troubler zone
It gets wild at night
So ya gotta be brown
When you step on a sac
Give around a pound
Boys don't play,
we're rougher than nails
Never do a crime if you can't post bail
B -Boy Academy, the girlie skis
Utah's down, cause they're clockin'
Gs H .R .1, the hustle's rough
Eastside got juice and other
B -Boys know
Suckers on the tip, don't slip or trip
If you riff a bit, you get pissed or whipped
Rock girls all around gettin' paid's a thing
I live in East Kendall
where the money is green
No one's a king, in search of a throne
One empire, bigger than Rome
Black rhythm,
created over top of drums
Skyscrapers stand tall,
where I come from Grand Hoover,
exact, engraved in blood
This time it's fire, at first the flood
MC's over mic,
preach stories that seem
Whack to a brother,
who's chasing a dream
Fake words on life,
and think the jokes sound funny
When the battle cry,
is nothing but to make money
Go 3 -2, make money
Go, go, go, go, go
Down here, when we have to fight
We can pull metal, but we do things right
Beat you down with our fists,
make you feel like a punk
So you know it's a risk,
when you pop or jump
Hollywood
G -Nights, Fonz and Sam Mike D 'Auto, Bonefriend,
Raku, Bam Miles, Dave, Fuss, D and Rob,
the original brothers of the 3 -2 mob
Spank, Quan, D and Raleigh, Kevvy,
Kev, Chuck, C, Malik and Tylee
From way back when,
the arms were raised,
the block still stands,
so the posse prays
Never take short, we never stay dire,
back by the venture in a open sky
Out there, where the evil soars,
from the pocket of another,
equals a score
Somehow, we gotta get time,
many ask why, we still cry
Money is nothing to a poet
Some are buffing
And I know it
Has to be another way to rule my crown
Black power's in the mic
Cause I'm 3 -2 -DAMN
In your territory I'm 3
[D]-2 -DAMN[D]
[D]
Outro