Joell Ortiz - Leyendecker lyrics

Bruce Wayne called in Gotham I didn't know who to call when I seen them towers droppin' Some how we kept it poppin' The big apple, where the most lyrical kids will spit at you And eye contact'll get your b**h tackled I won so much they probably thought I rigged battles Nah for real I rocked, I had to go and get Battles Put guitars on top but when our kicks happen You in a daze like the haze like I blaze on 6th avenue In my ear, yeah, the bullsh** chatter too Save the grenades and graves for the lames they matter to I'm an artist, you're an iron repper I punch the king of the jungle in his face, I'm lion decker Man, I'm hotter than July trying to buy a sweater Out a store with no ac, don't play me No BK's, no KB toy store With these toys my boys go to war [Hook x2] I live in the Hood But ya'll can call it the slums or the gutter Or the bottom leave you wilin' in NY I live in the Hood Its not our fault we poverty stricken We playin' lottery tickets trying to get by I live in the Hood How we do Car horns, yelling, traffic crazy Enter strollers with the baddest babies I sell my bundles of crack for 80 on that corner While looking at the back of ladies Block Royal hood been on my fashion lately Meet my Block Royal boot if you acting crazy A cold beer feels nice going down In that parking lot with gwap and dice rolling 'round Until them narcs stop and hop, you might know the sound (police sirens) Then you riding downtown Like take off the cuffs, loosies cost too much Like 50 cent, but when you big, get your nas and puff New York, New York, you can smell it in the air See the felons over there that'll split your melon over gear And they telling over where? Nah not in my state Top 10 with the nation's crime rate [Hook x2] If you hoped off the plane and landed on my block You would see the army flames and light an L or poc You would smell the alcohol, somebody done lost the top You would feel the tensions flaring, somebody gone get shot You would hear the sirens nearing, somebody called the cops You would taste the blood in your mouth, hey Crooked it ain't stop You better show them men IDs 'cuz don't nobody play fair in here in NYC [Hook x2]