This is a Brooklyn-bound two express train
The next stop is Fulton Street
Stand clear of the closing doors please (yeah)
Speak of what, it tastes horrible and colorful
Take me back there
Well, I wrote this in cold sweats, nah
Wrote this in old sweats, nah
Wrote this in gold text, in a book of shit you'll forget so
I hope the page rip
So that way you never erase it, saving it up in a pile
To cover and color my smile but let the paint drip
'Cause either way you'll brush it off
Even days we up in odds
Even nights we dusting spawns, from dusk to dawn to up in arms
When I dust the crust you rusted charm
Scared to leave and squeezing tight
All we want is peace and fright, all we won is sleepless nights
You paint that picture perfect then curve with curse and revert the design
I broke this verse in person
You took the perks and inverted the kind (my New York City window)
Don't wanna lose my mark but food for thought, deserted my mind
I hate that I cut all my personal time to be just a person in line I'm thinkin'
Maybe I'm calling too much, maybe you don't answer enough (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Maybe the cure is me and you and the cancer's us, maybe I (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Maybe I baby you and I pamper too much (ooh, ooh, ooh)
So, (staring out my New York City window) took out the lighting and put it in writing
As if that stamp could do much
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
(Staring at my New York City windo) well you, read this in my words, no
Read this in my shirt and (staring, staring at my New York City windows)
First thought was cry first, Bible, hold tight then sky search, read on
Drink and chaser
Look how you wrinkled the paper
Left the best condolence, time escapes arrest the moment
On and off like pre-teen, no
I get too old for this, a different breed of a saint
One layer paint still makes the picture deep
I hope that's what you get from me, grip on us or slip from me
You learned from the best, I learned that ya ex
It still takes a locksmith to get the key to my- (staring at my)
New York City windows (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
Staring out my New York City windows (staring at my, staring at my)
Staring out my New York City windows (staring out my New York City window)
Staring out my New York City windows (staring out my New York City window)
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows
Staring out my New York City windows (staring at my, yeah, staring out my)
Staring out my New York City window, baby
The last stop on this train
Everyone please leave the train
Thank you for riding with MTA, New York City transit
