Lyrics
“Prince of the City”
Soon as I stepped in the door, and got a taste, I was forevermore on my paper chase. I was patient, wait, then I saw the sign like Ace of Base, got my stuff together, started working at a hastened pace. They thought I couldn’t do it, cuz I got a pasty face, rare like ukulele plays, made the game my daily race. Few days away from sixteen, but ain’t got a baby face, yelling “Put My Records On” like I’m Corrine Bailey Rae. Now listen closely, don’t want to be repetitive, man it seems like my songs act like a sedative. Calming y’all down, none wanna confront me, everything’s “Beautiful” to put it James Blunt-ly. More likely, like James, Lebron, I’m the next star outta high school, he’s passing the baton. Still got years to catch up to Khalifa stud, and I don’t get my inspiration from a reefer bud.
*Refrain* Throw the four one deuce to the side, rep my city like I’m banging Papoose in the ride. This for my people that are true and tried, hard-working popping collars that are blue and not dyed. This is the anthem bang it Pittsburgh wide, let ‘em know where you stay, lets see that Steel City pride. And y’all don’t owe me none for this little ditty, but hey maybe I could be the Prince the City, okay?*
Stargell jerz, Pirates fitted got that Pittsburgh fashion, not a football team, but got that Pittsburgh Passion. I’m on the scene, I hear cymbals crashing, dropping bombs leaving dudes with a limb detachment. It ain’t easy getting green, and I ain’t touching Kermit yet, ballin’ on a budget and I ain’t got my driver’s permit yet. Not your typical, but I’ll still make a hit if you wanna be analytical and critical. Cuz my rhymes are “Lethal Weapons”, something like I’m Danny Glover, but still I remain “Almost Famous” like Primanti Brothers. Lemme slow down, cuz y’all probably gasping, I gotta make sure the concept you’re concept you’re grasping. Sharper than your tools, I belong in a shed like snakeskin, every time most of these cats spit a line they waste wind. Not me, the Pittsburgh Kid, ain’t Paul Spadafora, got that 90’s aura, that’ll always draw ya. *Refrain*
Man, I’m not done I still got some words left in me, gotta make a name for the myself, it’s my destiny. But not a child so don’t call me Knowles or Rowland, please pray for the repose of the souls that are now controlling. I’m prepared to take my throne of authority, and break this whole life filled with drones of seniority. A-train, apex, that is the ultimate priority, and you know I gotta have the absolute majority. Flow polished, cats wanna debate my birth date, getting real good at an alarming rate. Flawless like the diamond’s princess, but, I’m leaving press impressed with my finesse and minceless struts. Tough on the court like full-court press and Princeton cuts, cuz on these tracks I ain’t skimping primp things up. No more Mr. Nice Guy, better be aware of it, deadeye, shooting to kill, like Pistol Pete Maravich. *Refrain*
