In the City
• Written by TruePoet
True Poet
Reppin Atl
In the city tonight, ya'll
The city of gold
jewles in the road
gucci belts wrapped around my clothes
Stick figure body while I got 6 figures
scraping a knife across jagged stone
Yeah, you know i just keep goin at it
See me at the street corner like a drug addic
playin with my rhymes like I'm on a play-station
feeling so chill like I'm on vacation
Peachtree road, every street is a branch
ATL washin over me like an avalanche
Future, Lil Jon
Martin Luther King
all the people workin hard
ridin hard, limousine
I'm in the city and i'm painting up the canvas
ATl too busy to become a racist
Its got the strife
gun fights, but still
My life, my house
I just got to learn to deal
This is my life
I'mma take care of buisness
i am a crime and God is my witness
Getting up, stand tall
name on the wall
like i had the deed to the building
mind set like an automatic gun
No one can slow me down
like an underground station
Walk, then i ran
flyin cross the pavement
goin for the super bowl, like i was the falcons
True poet
got the soul of the Dirty South
not even bullets ever kept me locked in the house
Hotlanta, like I've been sent to hell
So i head to white waters
6 flags over ATL
CNN, cause I'm all about the Benjamins
How'd I end up here?
i used to clean the dirty dishes
I got the rags, i don't need the riches
Just a soul train thru the streets
no 3 wishes
Like my name was Aladdin
In the city you know anything could happen
I keep the food real fresh like its wrapped up
Call me Jesse Owens
cause I'm lighting up the track
Should i keep on playin in the sand?
Is it best for the business
like Vince McMahon?
1st i died and then i was awaken
Now i'm risin up like the Undertaker
I'm steady Hustlin
call me Cenation
i am a doctor
and my patients are waiting
anxious to get a front row seat
just to jam to the beat
with my poetry
You know I'm Dirty South
Atl breed
My name is True Poet
and the beat is never dead.
Shout out to KingsNeverDie on the Rappad
teachin me how to bring the old rap back
no snapbacks, no tattoes
No girls that turn into the vacuum
on the carpet, cause i keep it clean
sitting here doing my own thing
under blazing streetlights like paper towns
struggling and hustling to bring the circle back around
and my background's in the concrete
Philli Arena, Collesium
To the cascade skate rink
I could go on and on
but a haiku is what i'm tryna write in these bars
keep it simple, like nerds tryna go to the prom
True Poet in the City and its been too long
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About the Artist
TruePoet
Member since June 1 2016