The truth is that which needs to be told
And true creation is that which needs to be created
Yeah (Statik Selektah), one, two, one, two, let's ride
Check me out, yo-yo-yo
Slum villain
Slave to the page, always keep my tongue spillin'
Now I spit the dope until I get the numb feelin'
Tell me how them lungs feel
Runnin' laps around the track tryna treadmills
Dollar bills can't conceal the real deal
It's still lyrical skill that will appeal
Shots fire at the will, I be in the field feelin' ready to die
Been ready to kill, plus I'm ready to ride for any one of my guys
Can't look me in my eyes, say I'm telling a lie
Head in the sky on the better side
I'm 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, don't take feels
The happiest days of my life were taken from me
Now I'm just a slave to the mic, wait hold up
I don't think this chain fit me right, got a couple loose screws
Now I write like my brain got swole up, swole up
Like my brain got swole up, swole up
Like my brain got swole up, swole up
Like my brain got swole up, super sperm, yeah
And can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
Can you save New York City?
Can you save New York City?
Can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
Can you save New York City?
Can you save New York City?
Can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
And can you save New York City?
