Where I'm From

Uh huh, ge-ge ge-ge-geah

Ye-ye-yeah, ye-ye-yeah, (Brooklyn)

How real is this?

How real is this? (Brooklyn)

Uh-huh huh (Brooklyn)

Respect this here, check!

I'm from where the hammers rung, news cameras never come

You and your mans hung in every verse in your rhyme

Where the grams was slung, niggas vanish every summer

When the blue vans would come, we throw the work in the can and run

Where the plans was to get funds and skate off the set

To achieve this goal quicker, sold all my weight wet

Faced with immeasurable odds, still I gave straight bets

So I felt I'm owed something and you nothing, check

I'm from the other side where the other guys don't walk too much

And girls from the projects wouldn't fuck us, said we talked too much

So they ran up to Tompkins and sought them dudes to trust

I don't know what the fuck they thought, those niggas is foul just like us

I'm from where the beef is inevitable, summertime's unforgettable

Boosters in abundance, buy a half-price sweater new

Your word was everything, so everything you said you'd do

You did it, couldn't talk about it if you ain't live it

I'm from where niggas pull your card, and argue all day about

Who's the best MCs, Biggie, Jay-Z or Nas?

Where the drugs czars evolve, and thugs are at odds

At each other's throats for the love of foreign cars

Where cats catch cases, hoping the judge R-and-R's

But most times find themselves locked up behind bars, is that all?

I'm from where they ball and breed rhyme stars

I'm from Marcy, son, just thought I'd remind y'all

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Brooklyn... so where you from?)

I'm from the place where the church is the flakiest

And niggas been praying to God so long that they atheist

Where you can't put your vest away

And say you'll wear it tomorrow

'Cause the day after we'll be saying

"Damn, I was just with him yesterday"

I'm a block away from hell

Not enough shots away from stray shells

An ounce away from a triple beam

Still using a hand-held weight scale

You're laughing, you know the place well

Where the liquor stores and the base dwell

And government? Fuck government! Niggas politick theyselves

Where we call the cops the A-Team

'Cause they hop out of vans and spray things

And life expectancy so low, we making out wills at 18s

Where how you get rid of guys who step out of line, your rep solidifies

So tell me when I rap, you think I give a fuck who criticize?

If the shit is lies, God strike me

And I got a question

Are you forgiving guys who live just like me? We'll never know

One day, I prayed to you and said if I ever blow, I'd let 'em know

The stakes, and exactly what takes place in the ghetto

Promise fulfilled, still I feel my job ain't done

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Brooklyn... so where you from?)

Check, I'm from where they cross-over and clap boards

Lost Jehovah in place of rap lords, listen

I'm up the block, 'round the corner and down the street

From where the pimps, prostitutes and the drug lords meet

We make a million off of beats, 'cause our stories is deep

And fuck tomorrow, as long as the night before was sweet

Niggas get lost for weeks in the street, twisted off leek

And no matter the weather, niggas know how to draw heat

Whether you're four-feet or Manute size, it always starts out with

Three dice and "shoot the five"

Niggas thought they deuce was live, then I hit 'em with trips

And I reached down for their money, pa, forget about this

This time around it's platinum, like the shit on my wrist

And this Glock on my waist, y'all can't do shit about this

Niggas'll show you love, that's how they fool thugs

Before you know it, you're lying in a pool of blood

Where I'm from

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Mentally been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own)

Cough up a lung, where I'm from, Marcy son, ain't nothing nice

(Brooklyn...)