[Produced by: Statik Selektah] [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 BADA$$] 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' tread mills Dollar bills can't conceal the real deal It's still lyrical sk** that will appeal Shots fire at the will, I be in the field feelin' ready to die Been ready to k** 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 [?] 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 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 s**m [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]