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...)