Son of Sam (feat. SPNCR)

I feel like the Son of Sam and it's '74 Shooting craps down by the Bodega store I got a Spanish mami that's my new mi amore I always, feel the love when I'm down in New York This feels like New York in the Summer time, where kids grind for the money signs Mothers cryin, kids run inside then a hundred rounds go brat brat brat Spanish bitch wanna taste your neck, teasing you just to make you sweat When you passed out, she might take your check Didn't break a sweat, she a patient vet Hustlers all on the street corner, sweaty palms with the piece on 'em Dreams of copping that Big Body with navigation and seat warmers This don't belong on no postal card, ballers chill at the local park Sipping on blue Gatorade politicking bout new local art Cars driving by, way too fast, swerving through traffic like someone is dying Seem like people be way too mad It's thick in the air, take a smell of the violence Clouding a city that's never been silent Where everyone's grinding For a chance to be timeless, it's all for the shining And no I don't need to remind ya No disrespect to the culture in your neck of the woods But Timbs and sweats is something that I never understood When I first landed, but I saw that shit first handed Muhfuckas is dead serious Fuck getting lost, boy you can get got here It seems like everyone rapping, how the hell you get hot here Man, shit is not realistic, no wonder they all can spit sick And I thought I was gifted, pass the blunt let me get lifted Past the fact that I'm competing with cats Twice my talent, half my age, fuck a challenge, this career suicide Unless I balance it out by working harder and smarter Plan ahead think farther, strap up don't be a father No accidents, not if you want the chance to leave these fans convinced Fickle as fuck and they ain't giving two fucks This the Mecca, the birthplace of hip hop Where the best rappers better than you on they worst day, I kid not I feel the city lighten' up for me X8