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Life in the city is not very
It seems like a waste of your

1: Joell Ortiz]
Trojans cause the bust faster
No on no backwood, just Dutchmaster
Fit for handing a on Funkmaster
I don't come from a wack hood a Dutch factor
Ten in a black hood, that's a gun clapper
We chop ones 'till someone collapsed of lung asthma
Before this I a lifestyle like "fuck rappers"
A buck trapper up after duck the cut cracker
Tucked up under the tongue, who want a half of
That's a smiley face on your cheek, stitch 'em up
I snuffed son 'cause he walked through a rough hatter
Came in the and stepped on my Timbs and made 'em scuff faster
These niggas ain't 'bout that life, bunch of actors
Play the right when you see me, say "What up Scrapper?"
See you ain't got to me but you will respect me
Everytime you say you the nicest, boy, you me
Jesus Christ I'm a crisis, you a sip of
Little buds, suds at the tip of a Nestle
I my own horn, I'm Dizzy Gillespie
And I my city correctly (YAOWA)

Life in the city is not very
It seems like a waste of your

[Verse 2: Ortiz]
One, two, my project gritty, extra far pretty
Staircase pissy and the lobby tipsy
And I keep a with me looking good
My niggas leave the country, I bring the country to the hood
Let's go - my real my rap shit, I ain't make believe
Same nigga who got this break is still breaking
I'm playing Cee-Lo and the bank is cheese
G's I [?] better, feel that Vegas breeze?
Product of the gutter, no father, a mother
Know you running, but run
you hear me say "Word to my mother"
Your boy is thorough, ask my burrough
When I'm in Brooklyn go nuts
You little squirrels buy a referral
These niggas won't they can't so they don't copy
Bitches with they best be yelling "Go Papi"
Y'all niggas got Freshmen feelin' so cocky
But it's just a bunch of and a nobody
Just cause you write rhymes don't you rhyme right
You a light-high, don't jump and a highlight
Loose sight of hind legs and live in hindsight
Cause you aight, but you ain't quite like (YAOWA)