Yea I’m out that Brooklyn.

Now I’m down in TriBeCa

right next to Deniro, but I’ll be hood forever
I’m the new Sinatra, and… since I made it here
I can make it anywhere, yea, they love me everywhere
I used to cop in Harlem, all of my Dominicano’s
right there up on Broadway, pull me back to that McDonald’s
Took it to my stashbox, 560 State St.
catch me in the kitchen like a Simmons with them Pastry’s
Cruisin’ down 8th St., off white Lexus
drivin’ so slow, but BK is from Texas
Me, I’m out that Bed-Stuy, home of that boy Biggie
now I live on Billboard and I brought my boys with me
Say what’s up to Ty-Ty, still sippin’ mai tai’s
sittin’ courtside, Knicks & Nets give me high five
Nigga I be Spike’d out, I could trip a referee
Tell by my attitude that I’m most definitely from….

New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There’s nothin’ you can’t do

Now you’re in New York

These streets will make you feel brand new

Big lights will inspire you

Let’s hear it for New York, New York,

New York.

(I got schooled in the lessons of Brooklyn, yesterday. And it was pretty. Ironically, 15 minutes from where I lived for my entire life, 15 minutes from where I live now, and I need to be shown around like a tourist.)