New York State of Mind 2 (Joey Bada$$ NY Diss)

[Verse: Kito Abashi, Alicia Keys]
Yeah, I showed New York love before 9/11
Just to be real, you niggas started rappin'
And been trash since, just a lot of yappin'
I miss the Dirty Bastard
They first troops, the first line was so pathetic
They lacked the bars of Nas and feel of Makaveli
And so the bombs will proceed and I won't regret it
Damn, I miss the DMX's
I'm in a New York state of mind and I'm talking that
Shit, and a cheesecake, nah, I never walked for that
The South got the baton and they ain't never got it back
Nigga took your lunch like, "I want all of that"
Hell let the bum tell it
Hell, I been a hater, that's nothing major
Send a hit soon as they send the waiter
Circulate 'em (wait)
Roof got the aim on the nigga
Though, 'cause I been mad since Pac in the elevator
Damn, how the fuck they let it happen to him?
While Puffy shimmying and Mase twerking, rapping to him
That big ass city, not enough rappers to fill a room
Haha, and all your rappers got a trans rumor
Can break that skateboard and choke you
Aye, K. Dot keep on touring
They can't battle, this nigga local
And this nigga bitch ass fans acting like they sharing socials
Talking bout this nigga layered when the nigga brought a toaster, nigga (How?)
Like a mixed breed, I don't let 'em close to niggas
I'm talking Blake G, I'm known to poster niggas
You a tenth seed, you don't even supposed to, nigga
I ain't Joe or Puff, so I don't post a nigga
Hey, little trolls, stop yappin'
If that nigga gon' rap, then tell that nigga start rappin'
He ain't got it, then look, lil' nigga, go get your daddy
This nigga mid and average, it's like Jordan versus Sally
It's all instinct, though
I think and it go
I guess my country shit a cheat code the way I can handle a goat
Shit, I'm aiming for mo'
And like a free throw
I can take it but my range half or quarter the court
(New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There's nothing you can't do)
That shit was trash, too
Been wanting to talk to you niggas, now for the past few
And I don't like how you let Remy do Papoose
Joey all in the West business, we ain't ask you
Need to go back with your ugly ass trying to act cute
What happened to you niggas?
I believed in you niggas
Yo B, son butters
Timberlands, word to the mother
Eat a glizzy or a Coney, nigga
Sammy Da Bull, Alpo, they were phony niggas
This shit is simple
These niggas rapping in physics
And speaking in hieroglyphics
And thinking niggas ain't witty
But shit, we rather civics
Niggas, we talk Olympics when it come to these lyrics
We running circles 'round you niggas, though
Real shit, not only quotes but you can feel it, though
But you don't mind these bitch ass raps
Why you been a hoe?
Why he call you Hoey? (Why?)
You can rap, nigga, show me (Please rap, nigga, show me)
And you can't even beat the old me
I'm going light, I'm on eight like Kobe (Swish)