Mic check 1-2, 1-2, they shook, halfway crooks, the Brook coming thru/and the rumors weren’t true, I know rap here been slackin’ as of late, I apologize for them now lets set the record straight/attention, all corny rappers about face, find the nearest exit, Flex would drop a bomb in a second if you niggas were halfway impressive/its like Clinton leaving office on a high note, then Bush took it now look at what we left with/that’s how I feel about this, New York rap or the New York Knicks/I juxtapose the cons and the pros, everything is trash at an all time low/I suppose nothing good last forever, but I beg to differ this nigga keep getting better/each letter tells tales of the next, your choreographed raps can’t follow my steps/your style is rehearsed, I switch of styles every verse, you should worry it’s only getting worse/feel me, you wish you could, niggas sound like Eddie Murphy saying “that boy good!”/rose petals thrown at the bottom of my soles, you walking with a king, you peasants should of known/the worst thing to do is get me in a zone, cuz I black out, eyelids after they’re closed/ good night, long kiss, new New York, not 1996/I gave you classics back-to-back like Sir Lucious Left Foot and 3 Stacks in the Cadillac/Exhibit A was raw and uncut, Exhibit B came and I stepped it all up/ya’ll niggas talk about nothing, I know Big rolling in his grave disgusted/is this what he died for? along with Pun and L, for them I roll L’s, let the liquor pour on marble floors, farewell/send my condolence, preparing for the future while I’m living in the moment/looking for a loophole in the game to sell records like Josh Groban, I need a feature with Justin Bieber let’s get dog/niggas step up to the plate, what you hitting for? I need more and whatever supersedes it, the difference from me and you, you wants it, I needs it/fuck the games, I’m MIA for them “Paper Planes”, New York motherfuckin’ City, respect the name/ fuck the games, I’m MIA for them “Paper Planes”, New York motherfuckin’ City, respect the name!