Joell Ortiz, Battles - Leyendecker lyrics
[Joell Ortiz, Battles - Leyendecker lyrics]
Bruce Wayne called in Gotham
I didn't know who to call when
I seen them towers droppin'
Some how we kept it poppin' the big apple
Where the most lyrical kids will spit at you
And eye contact'll get your bitch tackled
I won so much they probably
Thought I rigged battles
Nah for real I rocked
I had to go and get Battles
Put guitars on top but when our kicks happen
You in a daze like the haze
Like I blaze on 6th avenue
In my ear, yeah, the bullshit chatter too
Save the grenades and graves for
The lames they matter to
I'm an artist, you're an iron repper
I punch the king of the jungle in his face
I'm lion decker
Man, I'm hotter than July trying
To buy a sweater
Out a store with no ac, don't play me
No BK's, no KB toy store
With these toys my boys go to war
I live in the Hood
But ya'll can call it the slums or the gutter
Or the bottom leave you wilin' in NY
I live in the Hood
Its not our fault we poverty stricken
We playin' lottery tickets trying to get by
I live in the Hood
How we do
Car horns, yelling, traffic crazy
Enter strollers with the baddest babies
I sell my bundles of crack
For 80 on that corner
While looking at the back of ladies
Block Royal hood been on my fashion lately
Meet my Block Royal boot if you acting crazy
A cold beer feels nice going down
In that parking lot with gwap
And dice rolling 'round
Until them narcs stop and hop
You might know the sound (police sirens)
Then you riding downtown
Like take off the cuffs
Loosies cost too much
Like 50 cent, but when you big
Get your nas and puff new York, New York
You can smell it in the air
See the felons over there that'll
Split your melon over gear
And they telling over where? Nah
Not in my state
Top 10 with the nation's crime rate
If you hoped off the plane
And landed on my block
You would see the army flames and
Light an L or poc
You would smell the alcohol
Somebody done lost the top
You would feel the tensions flaring
Somebody gone get shot
You would hear the sirens nearing
Somebody called the cops
You would taste the blood in your mouth
Hey Crooked it ain't stop
You better show them men IDs
'cuz don't nobody play fair in here in NYC
I didn't know who to call when
I seen them towers droppin'
Some how we kept it poppin' the big apple
Where the most lyrical kids will spit at you
And eye contact'll get your bitch tackled
I won so much they probably
Thought I rigged battles
Nah for real I rocked
I had to go and get Battles
Put guitars on top but when our kicks happen
You in a daze like the haze
Like I blaze on 6th avenue
In my ear, yeah, the bullshit chatter too
Save the grenades and graves for
The lames they matter to
I'm an artist, you're an iron repper
I punch the king of the jungle in his face
I'm lion decker
Man, I'm hotter than July trying
To buy a sweater
Out a store with no ac, don't play me
No BK's, no KB toy store
With these toys my boys go to war
I live in the Hood
But ya'll can call it the slums or the gutter
Or the bottom leave you wilin' in NY
I live in the Hood
Its not our fault we poverty stricken
We playin' lottery tickets trying to get by
I live in the Hood
How we do
Car horns, yelling, traffic crazy
Enter strollers with the baddest babies
I sell my bundles of crack
For 80 on that corner
While looking at the back of ladies
Block Royal hood been on my fashion lately
Meet my Block Royal boot if you acting crazy
A cold beer feels nice going down
In that parking lot with gwap
And dice rolling 'round
Until them narcs stop and hop
You might know the sound (police sirens)
Then you riding downtown
Like take off the cuffs
Loosies cost too much
Like 50 cent, but when you big
Get your nas and puff new York, New York
You can smell it in the air
See the felons over there that'll
Split your melon over gear
And they telling over where? Nah
Not in my state
Top 10 with the nation's crime rate
If you hoped off the plane
And landed on my block
You would see the army flames and
Light an L or poc
You would smell the alcohol
Somebody done lost the top
You would feel the tensions flaring
Somebody gone get shot
You would hear the sirens nearing
Somebody called the cops
You would taste the blood in your mouth
Hey Crooked it ain't stop
You better show them men IDs
'cuz don't nobody play fair in here in NYC