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

[Verse 1: Ortiz]
Trojans the lifestyles bust faster
No font on no backwood, Dutchmaster
Fit for handing a on Funkmaster
I don't come a wack hood with a Dutch factor
Ten speed in a hood, that's a gun clapper
We chop fair 'till someone collapsed of lung asthma
Before this I lived a like "fuck rappers"
A buck trapper up duck with the cut cracker
Tucked up under the tongue, who want a buck of
That's a face on your cheek, stitch 'em up laughter
I snuffed son he walked through with a rough hatter
Came in the store and stepped on my Timbs and made 'em faster
These niggas ain't 'bout that life, bunch of young
Play the 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
Christ I'm a crisis, you a sip of Pepsi
Little buds, suds at the tip of a Nestle
I toot my own horn, I'm Gillespie
And I reps my city (YAOWA)

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

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