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

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

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

[Verse 2: Ortiz]
One, two, my project gritty, far from pretty
Staircase sloppy and the lobby tipsy
And I keep a with me looking good
My can't leave the country, I bring the country to the hood
Let's go - my real name my rap shit, I ain't make
Same who got this break is still breaking knees
I'm still playing and the bank is cheese
Eight G's I [?] better, feel that Vegas
of the gutter, no father, just 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 they go
You little can't buy a referral
These niggas cause they can't so they don't copy
Bitches with they friend be yelling "Go Papi"
Y'all got these Freshmen feelin' so cocky
But it's just a bunch of and a nobody
cause you write rhymes don't mean you rhyme right
You a light-high, don't and become a highlight
Loose sight of hind legs and live in hindsight
Cause you niggas aight, but you ain't like (YAOWA)