On Mamas Songtext
von Gotham

I thought about it the other day
I′m 27 and a half years old, my guy
And I never left Brooklyn
I've never been to Staten Island
I′ve never been to Long Island
I've never been to Harlem
And if I can keep it real with you right now
I'm never leaving
I ain′t never leaving Brooklyn

One autumn night I caught a flight to Jamaica
To get away from all the stresses of life
And all the fights I had to break up
Bought the studio with me
I′m picky about the spots I record in


Plus the drones they got in Angel is falling
I'm on the beach with my bae
Definition of cupcake
And niggas hating and my skin so dark
I look Jamaican
Awkwardly drop it between my casual conversation
On vacation getting further away from the frustrations

But so many of my people catching tough breaks
Dressed like a nigga from New York with a gun case
Meanwhile I′m on an island cutting dub plates
Smoking weed that's more colorful than leaves falling upstate

But listening to Mac Miller′s Self Care
But still can't keep my mind off of my people welfare
That′s when I threw on that Dead Prez, hell yeah

Headed to New York, ain't a better vibe elsewhere

To write that shit, the real life shit

Got every system pumping
On mama's son they love it
We baking them cakes, you cookie cutter
I′m fresher than a New York slang
It′s so butter how we write that shit
The real life shit


Got every system pumping
On mama's son they love us
We baking them cakes, you cookie cutter
I′m fresher than a New York slang
It's so butter how we

Going number one like Pete Rock, Soul Brother

2020 Bad Money, I′m running the whole summer
That's gold, it′s the flow like no other

And they loving it like LB and Joe Scudder
New Yorkers, we don't concern ourselves with decorum
It's the home of hip-hop, the anti-pop consortium

Where the cops let off 41 shots without warning
Kill ′em dead in the street and let the coroner sort ′em
Used to spray paint our name getting up to get fame
Now a baby's coming out of the womb like gang gang
Back in the day, all of that banging was a Cali thang
You can tell the difference from the New Yorker and the Cali slang

I love to write to the clanging of the train
The kids playing on the swang
The brrap of the gunplay
The air horn that tell the Hasidics it′s time to pray
The drumming on Sundays in the park
Where the sun rays shine down
On the hallowed grounds where rap started at
My bars are like African artifacts over harder tracks
It started back when Phil Simms was a quarterback
And still drop a slap to give a young boy a heart attack

For the writers and the exciters
In between the Twin Towers like the man on the wire
For New Yorkers who keep driving
Even though the road be fucking up they tires
This the year we shutting down Rikers

And I like that shit, the real life shit
Got every system pumping
On mama's son they love it
We baking them cakes, you cookie cutter
I′m fresher than a New York slang
It's so butter how we write that shit

The real life shit

Got every system pumping
On mama′s son they love us
We baking them cakes, you cookie cutter
I'm fresher than a New York slang
It's so butter how we

My pop′s 60, I′m never gonna drive this like speed
My nigga, my nigga, my father
My father been riding the train since fucking '72, nigga