lyrics
(Verse I)
I pull strings I’m Jimmy Page in his younger days, looking for heaven no direction to that stairway/where’s the airplay? no New York niggas on the airwaves, I tripled and bypassed like surgeries/it’s ok, we ain’t mad, we let ya’ll live, we’ll take it back, ya’ll had ya’ll fun, some even created a buzz and I commend you for an admirable run but.../now it’s time to take it back, the gig is up, the trend is wack, I’m picking up with Christopher left off before the shots were let off in the side of that 4-door/will they ever catch the killers? probably not, they say the Crips did it, me I say the LA cops/and NY cops and the FBI, so fuck ‘em all niggas hate to see a brother rise/and if my words get to Voletta, know your son lives we’ll never forget him/and I put that on every word that I scribe to transcribe this song, if you feeling it just nod on...
(Verse II)
Step aside I’m the man of the hour, I love my city, no Tiffany Pollard, New York thank me/“Heaven Sent” like the sister of Neffe and the biological daughter of Frankie, frankly, it’s my time now Hov’s getting old, no one else wants to claim it so the “City Is Mine” now/I know, I got ahead of myself, but I’m way more qualified than everyone else/you see I’m young and I’m fly and I sound like New York in it’s prime, nigga admit it I’m a hell of a guy/I Daily Show you losers how I do it, the Jon Stewart of music, far beyond joking and spoofing Judas/I know you see that classic Polo shit, this for my Lo-Lives collecting Polo knits/New York molded it, now I gotta crane, wrecking ball, bulldozer it, old ways we over it/corny rappers used to hide behind beats now they hide behind street wear and BBC/and if you feel that line’s directed at you, holla at me nigga do what it do...
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