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

1: Joell Ortiz]
Trojans cause the lifestyles bust
No font on no backwood, Dutchmaster
Fit for a radio on Funkmaster
I don't come from a hood with a Dutch factor
Ten speed in a hood, that's a gun clapper
We fair ones 'till someone collapsed of lung asthma
this I lived a lifestyle like "fuck rappers"
A buck trapper up duck with the cut cracker
up under the tongue, who want a buck 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 store and stepped on my and made 'em scuff faster
These niggas 'bout that life, bunch of young actors
the right part 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 toot my own horn, I'm Gillespie
And I my city correctly (YAOWA)

Life in the is not very pretty
It seems like a of your time

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