[Intro: Solomon Childs] Yeah, son, these n***as don't f**ing want it (New York City), yeah, my motion picture Follow me, yeah, yeah, man, this sound serious, man Listen to me dog (come on) [Chorus: Solomon Childs] Top of the world, on top of your girl Real recognize real, you feel the redrum? Top of the world, then let me see you eat something You cowards, you ain't try'nna watch nothing get hurt And ain't try'nna hurt nothing [Solomon Childs] I'm from where n***as snitch, and then be back on the block The same day, forever rep Henderson and Broadway I'm from where the guns in my hood foreign From where these flatbox is borrowed in, from where the pigs don't go From where you can't get a fair one, every apartment got at least one gun From where the average n***a don't come You feel the redrum? From where they mix hypnotic with the hennessey From where the extortion your game move heavily From where a n***a don't care, who your family is But gotta make sure you handle your biz But seriously, I'm from where it's a war Fatigue jackets, car hard suits, Timberland construction boots I'm from where winter time, we bought nana A bulletproof coat, from when cats is turnin' hundreds into keys of coke From where a n***a will hang himself with his own rope The ma**agin' of a thug swing, I'm from where all white boys Be wild like Axl Rose, you scared? I'm telling you what to do Sign in, you getting closer to God Or maybe getting closer to you [Chorus] [Solomon Childs] I'm from where cats turn they back on you From where police'll put a bundle on you I'm from where everybody in the hood cousins From where you get popped for fronting From where the beef patties are stale From where the O.G.'s still sip Valentine Ale From where the real n***as is in jail And got parole hoes, and ain't getting no bail From where your baby mothers don't send no mail Out of sight, out of mind, from where your little man being sponsored By the next man, from where your man's police, and he'll lend you his nine Lend you his Glock, lend you his vest Lend you his shield, cover up the n***a you k**ed, huh? [Chorus] [Outro: Solomon Childs] Nothing at all... My guns is all I got to bust My dogs is all I got to trust This CREAM is all I got to see... Staten Island, New York City My guns is all I got to bust My dogs is all I got to trust This CREAM is all I got to see... We run the game, man