When they kick out your front doornHow you gonna come?nWith your hands on your headnOr on the trigger of your gun?nnWhen the law break innHow you gonna go?nShot down on the pavementnOr waiting in death row?nnYou can crush usnYou can bruise usnBut you'll have to answer tonOh, the guns of BrooklynnnThe money feels goodnAnd your life, you like it wellnBut surely your time will comenAs in heaven, as in hellnnYou see, he feels like IvannBorn under the Brixton sunnHis game is called survivin'nAt the end of the harder they comennYou know it means no mercynThey caught him with a gunnNo need for the Black MarianGoodbye to the Brooklyn sunnnYou can crush usnYou can bruise usnBut you'll have to answer tonOh, the guns of BrooklynnnWhen they kick out your front doornHow you gonna come?nWith your hands on your headnOr on the trigger of your gun?nnYou can crush usnYou can bruise usnOr even shoot us butnOh, the guns of BrooklynnnYou can crush usnYou can bruise usnBut you'll have to answer tonOh, the guns of BrooklynnOh, the guns of BrooklynnOh, the guns of BrooklynnOh, the guns of BrooklynnOh, the guns of BrooklynnOh, the guns of Brooklyn