Lyrics:

[Verse 1]
Straight out the golden era, the only fellow who know the craft
Death poet, locked in a dark room with a photograph
Revenge karma, blood stains and broken glass
Speeding off the scene of a drive-by, the stolen Jag
Shooter, wait til the train pass, blow the mag
Couldn’t hear the shots, they shot him under the overpass
White collar criminal, mad dollar, just know the math
Check buster, leaving your bank account on overdrive
Competition numerous, find em funny, throwing trash
Laughin at these rappers on tracks, them niggas know the laugh
Work out regiment, work excellent, show the abs
Wooly peps, 3P side step, throw the jab
Drink easy, Jesus, God bless me, I’m sober fast
Alcohol level the same level that Noah had
Street knowledge scholar, academics that no one has
School of Hard Knock, I’m the principle, you should go to class

[Verse 2]
This New York rap, subway riders, what blue New York has
Eat a bagel, pissed on a platform and cross tracks
Only thing I need is a quarter to take your girl black it
But a number to the payphone, tell her to call back
Stick up kid, stuck up the number, running for 4 stacks
Left him with a Penny like the Magic when they lost Shaq
One way ticket to hell but I’mma walk back
I could battle Satan in hell, somebody call Smack
Product of environments, call that power of combat
Defeat of a home invasion, stand on your welcome doormat
Contract killer who quick to put out a contract
Put more bands on yo head than that LeBron had
Bullets that explode in your nervous system on contact
The whip open up from the top like a Newport pack
Freedom fighting, balance it, AK with the arms strapped
You ain’t nice lyrically, seriously you should fall back