Tom Swifty - This Is War

There's 8 million motherfuckers in this rathole
Shaved heads, fauxhawks, dreadlocks, afros
Eyes, empty mouths, toes, elbows, assholes
Suits, bike messengers, cabbies and crack hoes
Hassidic Jews, tattoos, pigeon shit, statues
Hot roasted chestnuts, almonds and cashews
Pizza by the slice, folks living off of cat food
One more day even harder than the last two
It's more laid back where I stayed at way back in the day, Jack
It's fast-paced here
Cats face fears where the rats taste tears
I just keep on riding, hoping that the track stays clear
Illegal cabs, you could say that we driven
Or just take it as a given that it's subway living
Reppin' not a car as I step into the bar
With a misspelled i.d. from (Where?) NYC
And it ain't no going back
Flow on tracks so sick, pull up your ebola mask
This city's nasty, don't ask me directions
With a smartphone in ya hand, pass me a weapon
I'm on the train to Delancey and Essex
With a head full of sentences composed of my restlessness
Helpless in this insomniac city
No time to act pretty, let me tell you bout my residence
Funk Flex got the tunes for you to cruise to
Crazy people talking to themselves or Bluetooth
Get ate alive if you try to act too cute
If you wanna survive, here's some things you better get used to
Stepping over homeless mothers, veterans in wheelchairs
Cigarette butts, subway grates and folks who eat they meals there
It's everyday shit, vagrants pacing, patiently awaiting they fix
Wall Street bankers, movers, shakers, lunch break date with dominatrix
Of course the tourists make the purists wanna throw down
Send em back in body bags regardless of they hometown
They pack them things that go buck to the buck-buck-bang
But sometimes it takes an all-out shutdown to make us slow down
A snow emergency can turn the city quiet
But a summertime blackout can turn into a riot
Car alarm noise can eat into your brain
But the city never sleeps so it's legally insane
What a long strange
Trip it's been, since I was in the Twin Cities, rockin onstage
Now I'm on my grind, working and coveting cash
Findin time to hit the studio, merkin and plundering tracks
Suffer the wrath! Duck and cover! This is war! We under attack
Through it all, I still love Minneap and sometimes I wanna go back
But then I found the truth and transcribed it with my pen
What I really missed wasn't there, it was then

Written by:
Ezra Stead

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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