Life in the city is not very pretty
It seems like it's a waste of your time
[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz]
Trojans cause the lifestyles bust faster
No font on no backwood, just Dutchmaster
Fifth of Henn, a radio on Funkmaster
I don’t come from a wack hood with a Dutch factor
Ten speed in a black hood, that’s a gun clapper
We chop fair ones ‘till someone dropped of lung asthma
Before this I lived a lifestyle like "***** rappers"
A buck trapper up after dark with the cut cracker
Tucked up under the tongue, who want a buck half of
That’s a smiley face on your cheek, stitch ‘em up laughter
I snuffed son ‘cause he walked through with a rough hatter
Came in the store and stepped on my Timbs and made ‘em scuff faster
These *****s ain’t ‘bout that life, bunch of young actors
Play the right part when you see me, say "What up Scrapper?"
See you ain’t got to like me but you will respect me
Everytime you say you the nicest, boy, you indirect me
Jesus Christ I’m a crisis, you a sip of Pepsi
Little buds, little suds at the tip of a Nestle
I toot my own horn, I’m Dizzy Gillespie
And I reps my city correctly (YAOWA)
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
One-two, my project gritty, extra far from pretty
Staircase sloppy pissy and the lobby tipsy
And I keep a Barbie with me lookin good
My *****z can't leave the country, I bring the country to the hood (let's go!)
My real name my rap *******t, I ain't make-believe (Joell)
Same ***** who got this break'll still break your knees (uh-huh)
I'm still playin Cee-Lo and the bank is cheese
Eight G's I fold better, feel that Vegas breeze?
Product of the gutter, no father, just a mother
Know you runnin but run farther when you hear me say "Word to my mother"
(Word to my mother!) Your boy is extra thorough, ask my borough
When I'm in Brooklyn they go nuts, you little squirrels can't buy a referral
These *****z won't cause they can't so they don't copy (nope!)
******* with they best friend be yellin "Go papi!" (yeah)
Y'all *****z got these freshmen feelin so ****y
But it's just a bunch of yes-men, and a no-body (ha ha!)
Just cause you write rhymes don't mean you rhyme right
You a light-high, don't jump and become a highlight
Lose sight of your hind legs and live in hindsight
Cause you *****z aight, but y'all ain't quite like (YAOWA)