Ikay The New York City Messiah
Verse 1
Riding through Queens, strapped wit two glocks,
Screaming thug life like I think I’m 2Pac,
But I’m not,
My name is Kay, a young thug from da island,
These motherfucking streets has turned me into a tyrant,
Tired of this thug shit, tired of duckin’ sirens,
All my enemies annihilated, perpetually silenced,
Thank you lord, I got guns to buss,
I got weed to puff,
A bad bitch to f..ck, I don’t need that much,
I do this for da hood, when ya dreams are crushed,
And you’re collapsing to da ground, I’ll be ya crutch,
Send my love to Shyne, I buss shots to ya shit nigga,
Godfather buried alive, I buss shots to ya hits nigga,
I feel ya pain, shit’s excruciating,
I’m da hottest nigga in New York since da 50 Cent reign, deny me of that claim, you gotta be f..cking hallucinating,
Uh...
Cho
Crown me king, them other niggaz ain’t real like me,
Them other niggaz ain’t real like me,
Crown me king,
Them other niggaz ain’t real.
(Shyne Talking)
You dig... Like you know I wrote a lot of records in the Clinton Dannemora, Same place where 2Pac was locked up at, Nah mean... I wrote some of them records on Rikers Island.
Verse 2
I been hustin’ since I was six,
My heart froze when my brother gave me four bricks,
That was da 90’s... oh shit,
Moved over ten thousand pounds of weed by o’ 6,
Still I ain’t rich,
This ain’t no fairytale, I never had a childhood,
I’d change it all if I could,
Been languished all my life, all the hurt I’ve known,
So who da f..ck gon tell me I don’t deserve da throne,
The goddess Arinniti blessed me, gave me her last kiss,
Crowned me king, them other rapper’s music wacker than Usher’s last disc,
Let it breathe,
Take it how you wanna,
Here’s the recipe for love, bake it how you wanna,
Buss a shot for my niggaz thuggin’ on da corner,
Buss a shot for my nigga Frass, the streets give you love, hope you give it back, and free da Worl’ Boss, keep it thuggin’ on da Gaza.
Cho
Crown me king, them other niggaz ain’t real like me,
Them other niggaz ain’t real like me,
Them other niggaz ain’t real.
(Nas Talking)
I, I started to dislike the fact that people are making money... Like, more than liking the state of music.
Verse 3
Spent so many years perfecting this flow,
Made my first demo when I was thirteen years old,
Shit was flawed,
Decision was hard,
I still put it out for y’all,
A tape filled wit imperfect songs,
This Is My Life... Volume one,
I pray for Jamaica, all the ghetto children,
Growing up without a father, cause the cops killed em,
Now their name in black ribbons,
As I walk the battlefield, Selassie is my armor,
Protected by Allah, anointed by The Dalai Lama,
Awaiting my karma,
Easy to lose faith cause redemption is scarce like a fierce iguana,
Me and Nicko be thuggin’, holdin’ it down,
Been avoiding my fears, I’m owning it now,
Queens, New York, now you’re stuck wit me,
Brooklyn, Bronx, I hope you f..ck wit me,
Come on.
Cho
Crown me king, them other niggaz ain’t real like me,
Them other niggaz ain’t real,
Them other niggaz ain’t real.
(Jay-Z Talking)
Rap is poetry and it is, it isn’t just... you know, it’s thought provoking, it’s thought behind it and there’s great writing in rap as well.
Outro
Uh, Shout out to my nigga Lyfe Jennings,
Welcome home nigga,
Cry Nation, Ikay,
Make my own beats, spit my own rhymes,
No need to look any further,
We here,
Queens, Kingston Jamaica, Da River,
We in da building.
