Break the Bank

Its the life, the heart of Harlem

The deranged sociopath with a mental problem

I'd call the blocks a big asylum I'm on

Hear gunshots from a kindergartner

Flexin choppers like mobsters

Run up on a nigga while he wit his toddler

I'm thinkin like a don, Shawn Carter

But I'm the father who doesn't bother

To check on his daughter, rather slaughter and martyr

My sweetie turn on the TV see me wit two threes

Shootin with ease till the police tell me cease fire

I throw up my C's and leave, he'll get his appetizer

Selling these L's got me designer

I'm seen as a monster, not by the public but me

Foresee what I see, a mind set free as an MC

I'm friendly till I empty the clip, shootin straight from the hip

Stat stat. Project is back, he lives by the cul de sac

I pull two straps, watch the feds collapse, splat

Such an image of abstract I attach

When I talk about attacks and these ghetto stereotypes

Its at aerial hype and nobody contrite to the ghetto life

 

This is my canvas, painting pictures and scriptures

Something like Thriller but MJ wit scissors and delivers

I'm no killer but I'm ill enough to call my tracks chillers

Its just Harlem, where I grew up and blew up

I was still a fucking screw up

Momma wants me to explore

But I'm afraid I'll be on the hard floor

Holding up cardboard, chasin up car doors

My parents split, shit, they weren't even married

I was the baby canary in the middle of a wolf fight

Momma was uptight, Dad was not right

Every time they fight I just wished for shots on sight

I was ready to pick cannons like Nick at Nite

Or like Nick's wife, catch the insight