It don't seem real
That I've been away for ten years
The scene feel familiar
From benning road to ben hill
Landscape full of crabs, snakes in the grass
You don't watch em, they might off u
With a blade from the killing fields
Homie, I'm a sharecroppers daughter
And I still owe, niggas here was worth
Their weight in gold, patna-steel pulse
Now we on the sidelines tryna
To find an ally and an affinity
For allah will turn u into a scapegoat
And every since jansports and sambas
I been on the run
Place got me sleep with
One eye open wide, insomnia
Thought I paid my dues watching
My muses burning rocks
But obviously I am still mired to a debt
That I can't wander from
That's choc city
Buck fifty for the glocks-any stock
Where hustlas sell dasani
To atlantic ocean-penny stock
Luster starts to fade
When the fresh coats every winter stop
I learned all that I needed tween
These educated city blocks

What you don't know
Is we are-more than the city
We've been so close yet so far-ain't
That a pity
Trading freedom for just enough-land
Of the plenty
No one's gon change it but us

Bars like vocal analyses
Probing deep in your maladies
How the freak can you challenge me
I'm the people's champ, ali
See this is liquid I'm leaking into your psyche
Enticing those seeds to flowers
By sonnet peep the analogy
Maybe it was providence polishing
This crystal from gravel
'cause high society shun
U after existence in babel
No one seems to understand us
Words are too twisted in fragments
Crumbling and decomposing
On the lips of the tragic
Despite it all the writers with
A voice one dimensional
Their one liners fraught
With cliches non-original
Imma slice and spiralize
These charades, son-elliptical
Naked truth in the midst
Of masqueradesis so critical
Daddy's in the bottom of the bottle
'cause he think I'm lost
Keep verses bright with modicums
Of shade to get my point across
This is just but one of many pages
In the catacombs
The makings of a pharoah from favelas
That's ironic, huh?

What you don't know
Is we are-more than the city
We've been so close
Yet so far-ain't that a pity
Trading freedom for just enough-land
Of the plenty
No one's gon change it but us