Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant the livest one representing BK to the fullest

Bastards ducking when Hov be buckin' chicken heads be cluckin'



Back when ratchet was a ratchet and the vixen was a vixen and Jam Master Jay was alive I was mixing

Cooking coke in the kitchen back when Rodman was a Piston

Mike was losing to Isiah but he soon would get his sixth one

Gave birth to my verbal imagination assume a virtue if you have not

Or better yet here's a verse from Hamlet

"Lord, we know who we are

Yeah, we know not what we may be"

So maybe I'm the one or maybe I'm crazy

I'm from Marcy houses where the boys die by the thousand

Back when Pam was on Martin yeah that's where it all started

When Denzel was blottin' carpet, I'll pack a nine millimeter when Slick Rick made Mona Lisa

When Lisa Bonet was Beyoncé of her day, I had divas ya'll

Think I just popped up in this bitch like a fetus? Nah

Pregnant pause, give you some second thoughts

There's room on the bandwagon, don't abort

Marcy me



Marcy me

Streets is my artery, the vein of my existence

I'm the Gotham City heartbeat

I started in lobbies now, probably with Saudis

Sufi to the goofies I could probably speak Farsi

That's poetry read a coca leaf from my past

Came through the bushes smelling like roses I need a trophy just for that

Old Brooklyn not this new shit, shift feel like a spoof

Fat laces in your shoe I'm talking busting off the roof

Hold a uzi vertical, let the thing smoke

Y'all flirting with death I be winking through the scope

Shout out to all the murderers turned murals, plural f**k the Federal Bureau

Shout out to Nostrand Ave. flushing that Myrtle

All the county of kings may your ground stay fertile

Shout out to Big Poppa Daddy Kane heroes

Thus concluding my concerto, Marcy me