Emerald City

[Verse 1: Bizzy Crook]

[Verse 2: Ransom]
I've been treated like old news, niggas just won't lose
They say I'm so crude and barbaric on Pro-Tools
I hear it, they flow cool, I ain't really impressed
I'm yet to hear something that I can feel in my chest
Let's put these feelings to rest, huh
The scent of a murder still on my breath
I gave the order, let's blaze a quarter
Harlem nights, see shades of Porter, became a martyr
Hate my father, so tell me how could I raise a daughter?
I came to slaughter, doubters and shit talkers
Dancing over they grave, they calling us Crip walkers, ha
I spit torture, the clip sparker
But still I drop couple jewels that's precious like Ms. Parker
Excuse me, is this how the story is told?
Exceptional delivery with this glorious flow
I spit at 40 below, all gold everything
But just because it glitters, my nigga, don't mean it's gold, huh
Like you ain't know, all flash without substance
It's been a minute since I made some cash without hustling
What's rap without suffering? Think inside of the question
These niggas getting deals just solely off of perception
Fuck it, call it deception, these labels got no direction
Well let the realest nigga that's rapping teach 'em a lesson
I ain't change up shit
I'm still coming through with some real live niggas that I came up with
Get your chain tuck quick, fuck a stain, blood drips
Know that dumb hood shit, I remain on it
Yeah, niggas know the story, I ain't pushing forty
But I been to hell and back, selling crack, "Pain and Glory"