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(feat. El-P (Company Flow)) |
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Is there anyone close.. by.. who can listen to this? |
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And who can see it.. plain as day |
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Look how it FALLS down |
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Falls down upon everybody! |
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This is it |
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[Lateef] |
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Looking, over a city, that's gritty, and rather pretty |
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A pity, it's hard to find, but inequity, cover |
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Every itty bitty square diamond of jiggy |
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They givin ??, up to woodsy |
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Manipulatin they minds in the alleyways |
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These dizzy and shitty rats, the sizes of kitty-kats |
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They cross paths when traffic subsides; somewhere |
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Some brothers is overstandin on a hot black rooftop |
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Freestylin for they GOT damn lives, the spirit, it gets live |
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And answers the question why God blessed the Earth |
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But, buildings block out the sky, and the children |
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Are oversexualized, media-wise, brutalized by parents |
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At the tender age of five, in front of they siblings wide-eyed |
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Nah not surprised, just the real scene regularly |
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Up in between the lies, try to put it together GET |
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They pieces of the pie, hope they clever and tough |
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Make it better before they die, plant the next seeds |
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Somewhere in the South Bronx, or Patterson ?? |
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The baddest with sharp chomp, to splatter when mouths-off |
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Retali' and swear he could damage em Dunn |
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But that will shatter his Mom's faith |
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In the art that she burns, herbs and candles of perm' |
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It's hard to call it see cause times change and the world turn |
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Some end up slangin dope, some end up strung out |
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On coke and sherm, some party every night for the rest of they life |
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And some learn, go corporate all professional rhetoric |
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With sensational glory, let me tell you all one day |
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That it is it ain't boring, and so hard to ignore it |
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Cause any day in this fork, that they callin New York |
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Based on nothin but currents, you can find yourself a failure |
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Or a success story |
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On the subway, at three in the mornin, huh |
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Or on the corner, or up on a rooftop yawnin |
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Meditatin upon it, lookin over a city that's gritty |
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And rather pretty, a pity |
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It's hard to find but inequity covers every itty bitty |
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Square diamond, the engine, of America, inchin |
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Toward hysteria, pimpin, every fate |
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[El-P] |
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My friends are the faces you sit on, lickin a profit popsic' |
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Where food is just a necessity between sitcom watchin |
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Soak up quick image instead of black marks on papyrus |
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Fabric logic, where true to dirt perps go incogninant |
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Think of Soup Nazi, empatzi project hard copy |
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Books will suffer Farenheits, quality of life flesh sliced |
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Omega daylight quota, pop luck lottery info |
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GigaPet rapist, internet pedophile disco |
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Sensationalist function of truth, dirty ass fetish |
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Glass bubble lo-cal profile, the year's fiscal |
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Workin family, Social Jowe, boot camp |
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Rehab group home kid, idolized cartoon missile |
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Mostly, lonely, plant life |
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Cement arena scream when you don't listen closely |
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Switchblade amaze young gun Brooklyn blood transplant |
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Immature Menendez fashion |
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Crystal Method lover, buy the bottle, jungle captive |
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Where MC's got little cocks on teeth with fillings out like magnets |
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Caught up in the dragnet, tri-felon |
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Shoula packed a plastic handheld lead shark repellant |
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I sense the tension building, since canvas killing |
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K-9's roam trained our district |
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Culture murder politic sadistic |
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Policy ?? backtrack, caught up in a tune from rockin fat cap |
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I told him it was art but just got laughed at |
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Burner liquid concoction on hot celsius |
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And kelpachlorics for the fatal facial, spray deface you |
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Sooner than never, most lawless progress together |
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Fuck the bullshit, I react to acid flux product definitive junk |
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Brain rape train bottle burners or books, FUCK THAT! |
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[Lyrics Born] |
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Imagine this, Angeles, or San Francisco |
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And everybody sandwiched in, can't stop here and ambulences |
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Don't nobody ass-kiss, ain't practical bein passive |
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In the city you ask so much ass and mo' asses |
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It's a batch of latin girl, actin rappin off the spanish |
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English quest, can't understand, as the languages clash |
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And every ad is vandalism, the trash gets aneurysms |
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It's delegates and panelists all representin they nationalism |
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And the battle inches on, every section seperated |
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By eth-nic features decorated veterans deliverin |
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Les-sons to the younger people stoops that double as bleachers |
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And I'm part, of an elite fleet, of MC's, and Truthspeakers |
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I import, concrete beats, that just speak, when my moods flavor |
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My peers I beg forgiveness, I just don't buy twelve inches |
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Too many independents, they share the same resemblence |
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Too hard to make decisions, I built up a resistance |
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Like I'm fightin off a sickness plus they just don't hold my interest |
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But, missionin out, to the indigineous birthplace |
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The first day, I inched below the sur-face |
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And found, inspiration, in surplus, in my, in-terpretation |
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Of disturbed crazy world, of love, dope shit, attemptin contemplation on |
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Uniquely woven and continously flowin intricately sewn into |
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The fabric of the nation New York City keep on mowin em down baby! |
