[Verse 1: Vast Aire]
My mother said, "You sucked my pussy when you came out
Don't ever talk back
I handed you life and I'll snatch it back"
I'm just a latchkey kid with a snotty nose
High school drop out
Space I'm around need whiteout
And I ain't dealing with no minimum wage
I'd rather construct rhymes on a minimum page
Cynical ways, cats sin for nickels these days
Pulling the chrome out
And you acting like pulling the chrome out
Hated the sound of grandma's crying the crooked letter
You could hear it from the ground or where the sky thunders
Make you wonder about early Sunday morning
Relatives dressed in black and they all mourning
Flows be banging in the paint, throwing elbows
My first fight was me against five boroughs
I lost my first wish
But remembered every detail of my first kiss
That's that Bronx Tale bliss
The holiest of holies
Hip hop, it was '88
Even at the age of 10, phrases levitate
Drinking Little Hug quarter waters
Dodging stray slugs on the corner in that exact order
While you playing, death is what happens
I found the passion in aerosol cans and hands clapping
Back spins, microphones and cats rapping
Linoleum and up rockers, the show shockers
Who rip Lee patches off of impostors
You ain't the real McCoy, you a wind up toy
And it's going to cost you
And that's my B-Boy Alpha
(Someday we’ll find it)

[Verse 2: Vordul]
Straight out of the depths of hell
Reflect the sec and inhale the buddah wisdom
Envision and edit inscriptions of a Megalah spiritualism
Paint a picture from the spiritual
And seriously spit a lyric
That'll rip through a physical ligament
Trigger living in these city limits
Limited with no money, going through crazy minutes
Crazy thinking of back in the days
When blazing the lazy writtens
Before we was swallowing deuces, popping with gooses
And rocking the bubble gooses
Trouble lose kid, puffin a loosie
Hopping off Huffy, stealing Marvel comics and water uzis
All of us canoeing through sewers with juvenile maneuvers
Caught up in nooses from borders with troubleshooters
On corners where coppers will hop out of Dunkin Donuts
Popping they gun and shoot us
Or more of us aware
Thinking Rudy Giuli really don't give a fuck about a mouli
Got me woozy, sipping Kahlúas losing my noodles
Screwed up in the two triple losers
Spraying it live, b-boy graffiti alpha
Out of rap-palooza
(Someday we’ll find it)

[Outro]
I mean there was something in me then that uh-, you know, made me want to go to Harlem and teach those ghetto kids