I feel like the Son of Sam and it's '74
Shooting craps down by the Bodega store
I got a Spanish mami that's my new mi amore
I always, feel the love when I'm down in New York
This feels like New York in the Summer time, where kids grind for the money signs
Mothers cryin, kids run inside then a hundred rounds go brat brat brat
Spanish bitch wanna taste your neck, teasing you just to make you sweat
When you passed out, she might take your check
Didn't break a sweat, she a patient vet
Hustlers all on the street corner, sweaty palms with the piece on 'em
Dreams of copping that Big Body with navigation and seat warmers
This don't belong on no postal card, ballers chill at the local park
Sipping on blue Gatorade politicking bout new local art
Cars driving by, way too fast, swerving through traffic like someone is dying
Seem like people be way too mad
It's thick in the air, take a smell of the violence
Clouding a city that's never been silent
Where everyone's grinding
For a chance to be timeless, it's all for the shining
And no I don't need to remind ya
No disrespect to the culture in your neck of the woods
But Timbs and sweats is something that I never understood
When I first landed, but I saw that shit first handed
Muhfuckas is dead serious
Fuck getting lost, boy you can get got here
It seems like everyone rapping, how the hell you get hot here
Man, shit is not realistic, no wonder they all can spit sick
And I thought I was gifted, pass the blunt let me get lifted
Past the fact that I'm competing with cats
Twice my talent, half my age, fuck a challenge, this career suicide
Unless I balance it out by working harder and smarter
Plan ahead think farther, strap up don't be a father
No accidents, not if you want the chance to leave these fans convinced
Fickle as fuck and they ain't giving two fucks
This the Mecca, the birthplace of hip hop
Where the best rappers better than you on they worst day, I kid not