Where I'm From

[Intro] Uh-huh, ge-ge ge-ge-geah Ye-ye-yeah, ye-ye-yeah (Brooklyn) How real is this? How real is this? (Brooklyn) Uh-huh, huh (Brooklyn) Respect this here, check [Verse 1] I'm from where the hammers rung, news cameras never come You and your mans hung in every verse in your rhyme Where the grams was slung, niggas vanish every summer When the blue vans would come, we throw the work in the can and run Where the plans was to get funds and skate off the set To achieve this goal quicker, sold all my weight wet Faced with immeasurable odds, still I gave straight bets So I felt I'm owed something and you nothing, check I'm from the other side where the other guys don't walk too much And girls from the projects wouldn't fuck us, said we talked too much So they ran up to Tompkins and sought them dudes to trust I don't know what the fuck they thought, those niggas is foul just like us I'm from where the beef is inevitable, summertime's unforgettable Boosters in abundance, buy a half-price sweater new Your word was everything, so everything you said you'd do You did it, couldn't talk about it if you ain't live it I'm from where niggas pull your card, and argue all day about Who's the best MCs, Biggie, Jay-Z or Nas? Where the drugs czars evolve, and thugs are at odds At each other's throats for the love of foreign cars Where cats catch cases, hoping the judge R-and-R's But most times find themselves locked up behind bars, is that all? I'm from where they ball and breed rhyme stars I'm from Marcy, son, just thought I'd remind y'all [Chorus] Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Brooklyn, so where you from?) [Verse 2] I'm from the place where the church is the flakiest And niggas been praying to God so long that they atheist Where you can't put your vest away And say you'll wear it tomorrow 'Cause the day after we'll be saying "Damn, I was just with him yesterday" I'm a block away from hell Not enough shots away from stray shells An ounce away from a triple beam Still using a hand-held weight scale You're laughing, you know the place well Where the liquor stores and the base dwell And government? Fuck government! Niggas politick theyselves Where we call the cops the A-Team 'Cause they hop out of vans and spray things And life expectancy so low we making out wills at eighteens Where how you get rid of guys who step out of line, your rep solidifies So tell me when I rap, you think I give a fuck who criticize? If the shit is lies, God strike me And I got a question: Are you forgiving guys who live just like me? We'll never know One day I prayed to you and said if I ever blow, I'd let 'em know The stakes, and exactly what takes place in the ghetto Promise fulfilled, still I feel my job ain't done Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice [Chorus] Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Brooklyn, so where you from?) [Verse 3] Check, I'm from where they cross-over and clap boards Lost Jehovah in place of rap lords, listen I'm up the block, around the corner and down the street From where the pimps, prostitutes and the drug lords meet We make a million off of beats, 'cause our stories is deep And fuck tomorrow, as long as the night before was sweet Niggas get lost for weeks in the street, twisted off leek And no matter the weather, niggas know how to draw heat Whether you're four-feet or Manute size It always starts out with three dice and "shoot the five" Niggas thought they deuce was live, then I hit 'em with trips And I reached down for their money, pa, forget about this This time around it's platinum, like the shit on my wrist And this Glock on my waist, y'all can't do shit about this Niggas'll show you love, that's how they fool thugs Before you know it, you're lying in a pool of blood Where I'm from [Chorus] Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own) Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice (Brooklyn)