staten island is back - j-formz lyrics
staten island is back lyrics
verse 1: j*formz
at 22, i’m a vet on this island
been runnin these streets since goggles on your head was stylin
let me tell you the staten i remember
rockin northfaces before it even hit december
like, what happened to: “what you gonna do?”
then gettin stomped, and havin your bike jacked in front of you?
now a days, a lot of fake thugs
actin like they gangsta just for the sake of
rockin crews flags
every hood in staten island, on the corner with a 40 insidе of a brown paper bag
velour suits, hoodies and timbs, not givin a f*ck
nеw air force one’s got you beefin once they scuffed
this is the borough of parks
what ever happened to smokin blunts in schoolyards after it got dark?
summonses out the ass, but bet
you was right back in that same park once the piggies left
hook: (scratched samples)
“no, no fair one, you get jumped on s.i., quick…” (clifton boyz)
“somebody tell the world that staten island is back!” (kritikal)
“i keep the thing close when i’m strollin through s.i., yes, i…” (a.c.)
“staten island’s back, got crack, to the new haze! (cig)
2x
verse 2: cig
guitar strokes and memories of our better days
only break for dinner from the sports we used to play
had the best shows and the video games
growin up on staten, man, sh*tdone changed
starter jackets with caesars and fades, i’m buggin
ain’t watch t.g.i.f. or snick? you’re frontin
and at the kegs in the woods your heart was pumpin
when someone yelled “i hear the cops man!”, then you start runnin!
chilled in the south shore, them kids is crazy
grew up in the north shore, it’s where my moms raised me
been through a lot of sh*t, sh*t don’t phase me
battle rappers at sportsfest dances, now they pay me
clubs shut down, then open up the next night
whitnessed hip hop go through every next hype
i write to try to heal the pain from my past
in spite of how i feel, the game made us grow up too fast
so…
hook:
2x
verse 3: j*formz
now tell me you don’t remember these
back in high school, coppin them tin foil bags of weed
pullin out them seeds and a*b*in a bliz
couldn’t n0body tell you nothin, cause you was the sh*t
anyone might pop at ya
cause in staten island, every dude here got an uncle in the mafia
hit up the mall every week
if you hustlin proper, you could buy a new outfit with the matchin sneaks
f*ck buyin a hat, instead
you’d just tear your shirt up and throw the f*ckin sleeve on your head
where we from, nothin was wasted
and you knew we was from s.i., cause we said “bro” after every statement
point a to point b on the train
then hop off the stop before if you ain’t got money to pay
big ups to the whole new york on this joint
cause everybody here lived in b.k. at some point
so…
hook:
2x
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