just a reminder of the greatness of Brooklyn... take the time to read the lyrics.....

The B-the-R-the-O-the-O-K
Best in the world and all USA
It's the B-to-the-R-the-O-the-O-K
L-Y-N is the place where I stay
The B-to-the-R-the-O-the-O-K
Place where I rest is on my born day
Bust it, sometimes I sit back and just reflect
Watch the world go by and my thought connect
I think about the time past and the time to come
Reminesce on Bed-Stuy when I was pride and young
I used to try and come, to the neighborhood function
Throw on my Izod, say a little something
When I was just a youngin, before the days of thuggin
How me and Charlie Chims (aiyyo what?) I'm only buggin
Fast forward, Nine-Now I gotta team my seed
I must proceed at God's speed to perform my deed
Livin the now space and time, round the nine to five
For as long as I'm alive, paw I got to strive
I ain't sittin roadside, that ain't harder to plan
I'm out here for my fam doin all that I can
I love my city, sweet and gritty in land to outskirts
Nickname Bucktown cuz we grown to outburst
Philosophy redefine us, touch mines I touch back
Walk the streets like a sweet and get beat like drum tracks
Catch no shakes over jakes (boomp-boomp!) we bust back
Bring the marty to your face wit no place to run back
I'm from the slums that created the bass that thump back
This ain't a game clown, play ya James Brown and jump back
What you want, Jack? Young cats stash they jums at
Draw they guns back, momma screams where she sons at
Tryin to hunt that, recurring dream of high stakes
The fourth largest, first hardest, Brooklyn is the place
Settled by the Dutch many years ago,
Three million strong, and here we go
Yo sometimes I sit back, reflect on the place that I live at
Unlike any place I ever been at
The home of big gats, deep dish hammer rim caps
Have a mishap, push ya wig back
Where you go to get the fresh trim at
Four on the jake got the Timb rack
Blue collars metro carding it
Thugs mobbin it, form partnership
Increase armorment, street pharmacist
Deep consequence, when you seek sleek ornaments
You get caught, rode the white horse and can't get off
Big dogs that trick off just get sent off
They shoebox stash is all they seeds gotta live off
It's real yo but still yo, it's love here
And it's felt by anybody that come here
Out of towners take the train, plane and bus here
Must be something that they really want here
One year as a resident, deeper sentiment
Shoutout "Go Brooklyn!", they representin it
Sittin on they front stoop sippin Guinesses
Usin native dialect in they sentences
>From the treeline blocks to the tenaments
To the Mom & Pop local shop menaces
Travel all around the world in great distances
And ain't a place that I know that bear resemblance
That's why we it The Planet
Not a borough or a prov, it's our style that's uncalm
>From ?sun? to the ? to the Lafayette Gardens
White ?coff guawinas? in they army jacket linings
Yo this goes out to my cats in Coney Isle
Friday night out in front The Himalaya goin wild
This goes out to Crown Heights and Smurv Village
The nighties, and all my ?yarda trenny? Brown's Village
Parkside tennants caught, thirties, forties, and the fifties
The cats out in Starite City gettin busy
To the Hook, to the East, to the Stuy
Bushwick and Kanarcy, Farraget, Fullgreen, and Marcy
My Flatbush posse, generals of armies
When it's time to form, just call me
And let this song be, playin loud in Long B
If you love Bucktown STRONGLY!

Brooklyn my habitat, the place where it happen at
Live sway and the sharp balance of the battle axe
Irons is brandished at, thugs draw they hammer back
It's where you find the News 2 crew cameras at
It's where my fam is at, summertime jame is at
They play Big and get you open like a sandal back
Hotter than candle wax, hustlin you can't relax
The crack babies tryin to find where they mama's at
It's off the handle black, wit big police scandals that
Turn into actions screenplays sold to Miramax
The type of place where they check your appearance at
And cats who know where all the hot 'lo gear is at
The stompin grounds, where you find a pound, smoke is that
Be blazin charm that have your wave cap floatin back
The doorstep where the disposessed posted at
Dope fiends out at Franklin Ave sellin zovarax
You big ballin better keep your money folded back
Cuz once the young guns notice that it's over, black
Brooklyn keep on takin it, worldwide we known for that
Flossy cats get it snatched like the local tax
The place I sharpen up my baritone vocals at
Where one of the greatest MC's was a local cat


all respect to the Mighty Mos.....

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry -- Walt Whitman

1
FLOOD-TIDE below me! I watch you face to face;
Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face to face.

Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes! how curious you are to me!
On the ferry-boats, the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose;
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.

2
The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day;
The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme—myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme:
The similitudes of the past, and those of the future;
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings—on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river;
The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away;
The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them;
The certainty of others—the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Others will enter the gates of the ferry, and cross from shore to shore;
Others will watch the run of the flood-tide;
Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east;
Others will see the islands large and small;
Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the sun half an hour high;
A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years hence, others will see them,
Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring in of the flood-tide, the falling back to the sea of the ebb-tide.

3
It avails not, neither time or place—distance avails not;
I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence;
I project myself—also I return—I am with you, and know how it is.

Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried;
Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships, and the thick-stem’d pipes of steamboats, I look’d.

I too many and many a time cross’d the river, the sun half an hour high;
I watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls—I saw them high in the air, floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies,
I saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies, and left the rest in strong shadow,
I saw the slow-wheeling circles, and the gradual edging toward the south.

I too saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water,
Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,
Look’d at the fine centrifugal spokes of light around the shape of my head in the sun-lit water,
Look’d on the haze on the hills southward and southwestward,
Look’d on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet,
Look’d toward the lower bay to notice the arriving ships,
Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,
Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops—saw the ships at anchor,
The sailors at work in the rigging, or out astride the spars,
The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants,
The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses,
The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels,
The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sun-set,
The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening,
The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite store-houses by the docks,
On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flank’d on each side by the barges—the hay-boat, the belated lighter,
On the neighboring shore, the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night,
Casting their flicker of black, contrasted with wild red and yellow light, over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets.

4
These, and all else, were to me the same as they are to you;
I project myself a moment to tell you—also I return.

I loved well those cities;
I loved well the stately and rapid river;
The men and women I saw were all near to me;
Others the same—others who look back on me, because I look’d forward to them;
(The time will come, though I stop here to-day and to-night.)

5
What is it, then, between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not.

6
I too lived—Brooklyn, of ample hills, was mine;
I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan Island, and bathed in the waters around it;
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day, among crowds of people, sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night, or as I lay in my bed, they came upon me.

I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution;
I too had receiv’d identity by my Body;
That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body.

7
It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,
The dark threw patches down upon me also;
The best I had done seem’d to me blank and suspicious;
My great thoughts, as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre? would not people laugh at me?

It is not you alone who know what it is to be evil;
I am he who knew what it was to be evil;
I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,
Blabb’d, blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d,
Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,
Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant;
The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,
The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting,
Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting.

8
But I was Manhattanese, friendly and proud!
I was call’d by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me approaching or passing,
Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat,
Saw many I loved in the street, or ferry-boat, or public assembly, yet never told them a word,
Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping,
Play’d the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,
The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like,
Or as small as we like, or both great and small.

9
Closer yet I approach you;
What thought you have of me, I had as much of you—I laid in my stores in advance;
I consider’d long and seriously of you before you were born.

Who was to know what should come home to me?
Who knows but I am enjoying this?
Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me?

It is not you alone, nor I alone;
Not a few races, nor a few generations, nor a few centuries;
It is that each came, or comes, or shall come, from its due emission,
From the general centre of all, and forming a part of all:
Everything indicates—the smallest does, and the largest does;
A necessary film envelopes all, and envelopes the Soul for a proper time.

10
Now I am curious what sight can ever be more stately and admirable to me than my mast-hemm’d Manhattan,
My river and sun-set, and my scallop-edg’d waves of flood-tide,
The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the belated lighter;
Curious what Gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest name as I approach;
Curious what is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face,
Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you.

We understand, then, do we not?
What I promis’d without mentioning it, have you not accepted?
What the study could not teach—what the preaching could not accomplish, is accomplish’d, is it not?
What the push of reading could not start, is started by me personally, is it not?

11
Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!
Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves!
Gorgeous clouds of the sun-set! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me;
Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!
Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!—stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!
Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!
Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!
Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house, or street, or public assembly!
Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name!
Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!
Play the old role, the role that is great or small, according as one makes it!

Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you;
Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current;
Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air;
Receive the summer sky, you water! and faithfully hold it, till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you;
Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one’s head, in the sun-lit water;
Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail’d schooners, sloops, lighters!
Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower’d at sunset;
Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the houses;
Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are;
You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul;
About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung our divinest aromas;
Thrive, cities! bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers;
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual;
Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.

12
We descend upon you and all things—we arrest you all;
We realize the soul only by you, you faithful solids and fluids;
Through you color, form, location, sublimity, ideality;
Through you every proof, comparison, and all the suggestions and determinations of ourselves.

You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers! you novices!
We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward;
Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us;
We use you, and do not cast you aside—we plant you permanently within us;
We fathom you not—we love you—there is perfection in you also;
You furnish your parts toward eternity;
Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.

From HOWL!

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind