[Intro: MF Grimm and Sample with Scratches by Ninja B] (x2)

This is dedicated to, is dedicated to

“This goes out to you” - Sample from The Notorious B.I.G. - “Kick In the Door”

When it come to war, there will be some casualties

Manhattan is the game of death, and cops are referees

I’m dwelling on my life like I’m Kevin from the Wonder Years

A lot of friends died, and I tried to hold back the tears

Fuck pouring beer—I give ‘em bloodshed

Instead ‘cause, so many died, I have to pour a keg

New York is hot under the collar. It’s

So easy to die, but it’s hard to make a dollar

Screaming from the Desert is the Eagle—make it holler

Plus we got the street sweepers, so run in fear. If

We can’t have no money, then the block is getting cleared

My family call me MF, that mean Mad Flows

You better buy my album ‘cause, yo, Grimm ain’t with no shows

Nah, kid. I’ll be with a cutie in my house, and

Want me to do a show? Then you’ll put up twenty thousand

(Word) Fuck promo. Mad Flow only rhyme

For double-digit dough and two bottles of Mo

I really do think Earth is undercover Hell

‘Cause rain never drops, only blood and bullet shells

But yet and still, my fam remains strong

Life isn’t short, death is so fucking long

What would I do? Where would I be?

Without my fucking crew AKA my family

Some passed away, now they’re living up above

But not even death can separate the love

Half the crew is black, the others are Hispanic

Showing unity and causing havoc on this planet

Some passed away, now they’re living up above

But not even death can separate the love

Friends from the cradle to the grave hoping for

Old age, but this stage of age never came, and, um

Where I’m from, **** die young

But we all know real **** never die. Once

I mediate, breath in, release steam

Subconscious take control, quantum leap through my dreams. I’ll put

My nine on the shelf and try to mediate and find myself

But, yo, I still can’t find me

Life’s a tape—stop, play, and just rewind me

Push record and let me cry. I prayed

To God as a child, but, as a man, I only pray to die

Holograms of horror through headphones

A virtual reality, my brain is the dead zone

Rappers in my hemisphere, prepare—the end is near

The Reaper’s here to interfere, flip a nightmare like

They’re kis, chop dreams down to ounces

Feet to move the mommies, but the human head be bouncing

I’m living in a stress box, every day’s the same (What you?)

(Want, kid?) I want the money—fuck the fame

What would I do? Where would I be?

Without my fucking crew AKA my family

Some passed away, now they’re living up above

But not even death can separate the love

Half the crew is black, the others are Hispanic

Showing unity and causing havoc on this planet

Some passed away, now they’re living up above

But not even death can separate the love

To all my **** (Big Isaac). Um (My **** Spud), this is dedicated to, dedicated to (To Al) all my motherfucking brothers in the streets (All the brothers struggling). This is dedicated to, dedicated to all my motherfucking brothers in the streets. (This is dedicated to) This is dedicated to, (Dedicated to) dedicated to you, all my motherfucking brothers in the streets. And I got one thing to say (You don’t stop): Mayor Giuliani (Giuliani Adolf), you won’t step to Harlem when a brother’s slain, to ease a mother’s pain, but you can make it to a Rangers game