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[Intro]
The truth is that which needs to be told
And true creation is that which needs to be created
(Yeah, 1, 2, 1, 2 let's ride)
[Verse 1: Joey BADA23718]
Slum villain
Slave to the page, always keep my tongue spillinâ
Now I spit the dope until I get the numb feelinâ
Tell me how them lungs feel
Runninâ laps around the track trynaâ tread mills
Dollar bills canât conceal the real deal
Itâs still lyric kill, skill that will appeal
Shots fire at the will, I be in the field feelinâ ready to die
Been ready to kill plus Iâm ready to ride for any one of my guys
Canât look me in my eyes say Iâm telling a lie
Head in the sky on the better side
Iâm from the Bed Stuy, where the homicide rate is getting pretty high
If money my religion, truth is better than my jeans
Probably spot the Buddha man picking through the seams
Met him at the banquet and hit the bank still
Jesus got the wheel, donât take [?]
The happiest days of my life were taken from me
Now Iâm just a slave to the mic, wait hold up
I donât think this chain fit me right, got a couple loose screws
Now I write like my brain got swoll up, swoll up
Like my brain got swoll up, swoll up
Like my brain got swoll up, swoll up
Like my brain got swoll up, swoll up
Super sperm
[Refrain]
And can you say New York City?
And can you say New York City?
Can you say New York City?
Can you save New York City?
Can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
[Instrumental Break: 8 measures]
[Refrain]