NYC

It's a fine line between Malcolm, Martin/
Boulevards, get your dreams pulled apart/
Watch the seams stretch, can't beg for pardons/
Inner-city life's like jail with no wardens/
I'm a pugilist, this wartime reporting/
From Valentine where the corner sips Ballentine/
Out of brown paper, resounds my sound caper/
To Prospect Park in the dark/
Up through LES, where they rock colors that be looking like NES/
Yes, the plumbers move bricks through the pipes/
And they pick fire flowers while the youngins get lite/
On the same streets Langston penned poems true to life/
But I'm back on the wagon, in the Bronx walk with dragons/
Take the four to the ferry get to Staten/
36 chambers on the scene, but back to BK - wait, can't forget Queens/
Gave birth to Nas and Run DMC, and Prince Akeem/
Joe Louis, best boxer ever seen/
BK's fave, B.I.G. - Mos Def, Kweli what it be?/
Back to the BX, KRS was the tree/
Back in '86 sowed the seed, I was three/
Damn man, I love NYC!!/