Marlon Craft - Brooklyn Freestyle lyrics
Marlon Craft [Marlon Sean Cirker] Manhattan, New York, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Marlon Craft - Brooklyn Freestyle lyrics]
They say life a bitch even
When you live it right
Different strokes for different folks but not
Everyone hit it right
Always hung wit different types
Different nights you could find me
With the rich kids
Or wit all the hustlers the system sniped
New York eryone got stories
But use different mics
Erybody got the same emotions
Erybody drinkin, smokin
Bumpin Biggie from Bed-Stuy to Park Slope
And I mean do-or-die Stuy
Not the one where you move to open
Your $8 coffee shop cause your
Pops gave you a loan, shit
But I digress
What I’m sayin’s what’s inside my chest
It’s defined by all the girls
And guys I’ve met who
Look down on each other not
Knowin their eyelines met
Posh rich model bitches on
The concrete runway wanna
Be Instagram thugs and talk that gunplay
Everybody frontin for pictures
Chasin the gimmick, tryna quell
The loneliness of truth in
Figments of fiction, it’s fear
I was taught to know the value of a dollar
But not to find my value in a dollar
That’s why I don’t gotta chart
I can eat cause they know I got a heart
Out here tryna make change cause
See dollars tear apart
And I ain’t sayin that when Jay was in
Marcy scribblin down his first bars he wasn’t
Even thinkin of cars he could cop like
Money wasn’t always the plot but honor
Respect was a form of credit
And check it, dudes’ll blow their whole
Score today for a check
If it’s blue and next to your
Name online that’s even better
But I don’t need it only
The people can verify me
Fuck your follow count
I need park benches to sign me
Fuck an influencer, the whole city behind me
It’s Craft
When you live it right
Different strokes for different folks but not
Everyone hit it right
Always hung wit different types
Different nights you could find me
With the rich kids
Or wit all the hustlers the system sniped
New York eryone got stories
But use different mics
Erybody got the same emotions
Erybody drinkin, smokin
Bumpin Biggie from Bed-Stuy to Park Slope
And I mean do-or-die Stuy
Not the one where you move to open
Your $8 coffee shop cause your
Pops gave you a loan, shit
But I digress
What I’m sayin’s what’s inside my chest
It’s defined by all the girls
And guys I’ve met who
Look down on each other not
Knowin their eyelines met
Posh rich model bitches on
The concrete runway wanna
Be Instagram thugs and talk that gunplay
Everybody frontin for pictures
Chasin the gimmick, tryna quell
The loneliness of truth in
Figments of fiction, it’s fear
I was taught to know the value of a dollar
But not to find my value in a dollar
That’s why I don’t gotta chart
I can eat cause they know I got a heart
Out here tryna make change cause
See dollars tear apart
And I ain’t sayin that when Jay was in
Marcy scribblin down his first bars he wasn’t
Even thinkin of cars he could cop like
Money wasn’t always the plot but honor
Respect was a form of credit
And check it, dudes’ll blow their whole
Score today for a check
If it’s blue and next to your
Name online that’s even better
But I don’t need it only
The people can verify me
Fuck your follow count
I need park benches to sign me
Fuck an influencer, the whole city behind me
It’s Craft