Bomb the Music Industry!
Cold Chillin’ Cold Chillin’
Cold face, cold legs
Walk three blocks and pay two bucks
One bold sign
Interference on the line, waiting twenty minutes time every time

Transfer at Bedford
Twenty more Manhattan bound
Ten billion kids
I am happy with my flaws, I am happier when no one is around

And everybody looks around to blame our Brooklyn burning down
On white kids, hipsters, students, but we act like we're not one of them
It's easy, just use your eyes to judge
And go back to your powder drugs

I'm no better
Smile while pushing through the crowd
A round for friends
Find a corner at the bar, aberrations in a real confusing town