Leyendecker

Bruce Wayne called in Gotham

I didn't know who to call when I seen them towers droppin'

Some how we kept it poppin'

The big apple, where the most lyrical kids will spit at you

And eye contact'll get your bitch tackled

I won so much they probably thought I rigged battles

Nah for real I rocked, I had to go and get Battles

Put guitars on top but when our kicks happen

You in a daze like the haze like I blaze on 6th avenue

In my ear, yeah, the bullshit chatter too

Save the grenades and graves for the lames they matter to

I'm an artist, you're an iron repper

I punch the king of the jungle in his face, I'm lion decker

Man, I'm hotter than July trying to buy a sweater

Out a store with no ac, don't play me

No BK's, no KB toy store

With these toys my boys go to war

[Hook x2]

I live in the Hood

But ya'll can call it the slums or the gutter

Or the bottom leave you wilin' in NY

I live in the Hood

Its not our fault we poverty stricken

We playin' lottery tickets trying to get by

I live in the Hood

How we do

Car horns, yelling, traffic crazy

Enter strollers with the baddest babies

I sell my bundles of crack for 80 on that corner

While looking at the back of ladies

Block Royal hood been on my fashion lately

Meet my Block Royal boot if you acting crazy

A cold beer feels nice going down

In that parking lot with gwap and dice rolling 'round

Until them narcs stop and hop, you might know the sound (police sirens)

Then you riding downtown

Like take off the cuffs, loosies cost too much

Like 50 cent, but when you big, get your nas and puff

New York, New York, you can smell it in the air

See the felons over there that'll split your melon over gear

And they telling over where? Nah not in my state

Top 10 with the nation's crime rate

[Hook x2]

If you hoped off the plane and landed on my block

You would see the army flames and light an L or poc

You would smell the alcohol, somebody done lost the top

You would feel the tensions flaring, somebody gone get shot

You would hear the sirens nearing, somebody called the cops

You would taste the blood in your mouth, hey Crooked it ain't stop

You better show them men IDs

'cuz don't nobody play fair in here in NYC

[Hook x2]