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[ti:] |
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[ar:] |
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[al:] |
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"Where I'm From" |
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Uh-huh, je-je je-je-jeah |
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ye-ye-yeah, ye-ye-yeah |
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How real is this, how real is this |
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Uh-huh huh, Inspect this here, check |
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I'm from where the hammer's rung, New's cameras never come |
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You and your man's hung in every verse in your rhyme |
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where the grams is slung, niggas vanish every summer |
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Where the blue vans would come, we throw the work in the can and run |
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Where the plans was to get funds and skate off the set |
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To achieve this goal quicker, sold all my weight wet |
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Faced with immeasurable odds still I get straight bets |
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So I felt some more something and you nothing check |
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I from the other side with other guys don't walk to much |
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And girls in the projects wouldn't fuck us if we talked too much |
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So they ran up Tompkins and sought them dudes to trust |
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I don't know what the fuck they thought, those niggas is foul just like us |
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I'm from where the beef is inevitable, Summertime's unforgetable |
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Boosters in abundance, buy a half-price sweater new |
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Your world was everything, So everything you said you'd do |
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You did it, Couldn't talk about it if you ain't lived it |
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I from where niggas pull your car, and argue all day about |
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Who's the best MC's, Biggie, Jay-Z, and Nas |
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Where the drugs czars evolve, and thugs always are |
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At each other's throats for the love of foreign cars |
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Where cats catch cases, hoping the judge R and R's |
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But most times find themselves locked up behind bars |
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I'm from where they ball and breed rhyme stars |
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I'm from Marcy son, just thought I'd remind y'all |
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Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
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Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
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Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [01:44.43] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
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Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [01:49.63] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
| [01:52.69] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [01:58.88] |
I'm from the place where the chruch is the flakiest |
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And niggas is praying to god so long that they Atheist |
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Where you can't put your vest away and say you'll wear it tomorrow |
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Cause the day after we'll be saying, damn I was just with him yesterday |
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I'm a block away from hell, not enough shots away from straight shells |
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An ounce away from a triple beam still using a hand-held weight scale |
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Your laughing, you know the place well |
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Where the Liqour Store's and the base well |
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And Government, fuck Government, niggas polotic themselves |
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Where we call the cops the A-Team |
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cause they hop out of vans and spray things |
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And life expectancy so low we making out wills at eight-teen |
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Where how you get rid of guys who step out of line, your rep solidifies |
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So tell me when I rap you think I give a fuck who criticize? |
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If the shit is lies, god strike me |
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And I got a question, are you forgiving guys who live just like me? |
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We'll never know |
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One day I pray to you and said if I ever blow, Let 'em know |
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Mistakes ain't exactly what takes place in the ghetto |
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Promise fulfilled, but still I feel my job ain't done |
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Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice |
| [02:52.36] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [02:55.35] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
| [02:57.72] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [03:00.47] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
| [03:03.67] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [03:07.13] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
| [03:09.49] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [03:15.95] |
I'm from where they cross-over and clap boards |
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Lost Jehovah in place of rap lords, listen |
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I'm up the block, round the corner, and down the street |
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From where the Pimps, Prostitutes, and the Drug Lords meet |
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We make a million off of beats, cause our stories is deep |
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And fuck tomorrow, as long as the night before was sweet |
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Niggas get lost for weeks in the streets, twisted off weed |
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And no matter the weather, niggas know how to draw heat |
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Whether your four-feet or Minute size, it always starts out with |
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Three dice and shoot the five |
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Niggas thought they douce was live, now hit 'em with trips |
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And I reached down for their money, pa forget about this |
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This time around it's platinum, like the shit on my wrist |
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And this glock on my waist, y'all can't do shit about this |
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Niggas will show you love, That's how they fool thugs |
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Before you know it your lying in a pool of blood |
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Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [04:06.59] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
| [04:08.95] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [04:11.59] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
| [04:14.80] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [04:18.14] |
Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own |
| [04:20.76] |
Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, Ain't nothing nice |
| [04:25.76] |
by og |
