Albee Square Mall

[Verse 1: Skyzoo]

Word to the love of a broke chain

That grew up into a Cuban, linked to a smoke range

We grew up to get into it, wanted it how they show it

But grew up kind of fast like wondering how they load it

Product of the ‘80s, ’95 Navy

The Empire roller ring was out here tryna raise me

Straight up out the K, my friends get at the grip

And the dream was to stick up the stickers like Matty Rich

Super hero Louie capes, went they get to the park

And the fiends is tryna cop off benefit cards

From the two parent home courtesy of two apartments

But both were the ones with the most heart of the heartless

So, therefore, I don’t make music for Fader

I make mine for the guys that grew up how I came up

Throw the same answer if you ever got and looked at me

Tell ‘em win or lose, baby, everything is Fulton Street

[Hook: Skyzoo & Torae]

Yeah, the product of Albee Square Mall, baby

Same era forever, we want it all, baby

"Where Brooklyn at?" - Notorious B.I.G

Yeah, we been busy running the globe

Might travel round the world but we always rep home

[Verse 2: Livin' Proof]

I’m a product of the borough really knew that work

We’ll do that dirt, shoot through your skirt

40 Smith on me, big homie we them hurts

East side all the time, homie, know your turf

I’m Nostrand Ave Coney Island out to Williamsburg

And everything in between that nigga, I killed the swerve

Gortex pants sag to show the Fendi belt

Your bitch on me like Livin' major in indie wealth

Ha, I know that ignorant shit you like

I’m on that ignorant shit you need

Run through the door with the 4 like get on your knees

You know what’s up, we came for them keys

Nigga please, these things is gaining murder mileage

Livin' Proof, I'm truth, see I emerged from violence

Smartened up, got aggressive, I had to work my talents

And Cooper Projects (YAOWA), I know you heard about it

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Torae]

Posted on the corner where my men shoot

Good hoodies, cold sagging over Timb' boots

Gold chain it swang, the whole gang that hang

That click clack and bang, that’s what we into

Hollering at the joints as they walk passed

Tryna bag, yo' shorty got a fat ass

Get the number, hit the camera on, get to hump her

A year later you don’t fuck with your baby mother

Your baby brother came home from a bid

Right back to selling crack, he can’t get him a gig

Your moms is stressed out, your pops done left out

And your grandmother get stuck raising with your kids

This the life of the borough

Kinda trife but we thorough

Got vices in plural but fuck dying in zero

I'ma get it while I'm breathing

And even by breaking even

I win, just pray God know the reason I sin

And

"Where Brooklyn at?"

[Hook]