KID INK feat. Killa Kyleon, Red Cafe & Machine Gun Kelly – My City

[Kid Ink]
Yeah…
Uhh..

[Chorus]
When you come to my town, see we do it big in my city
We can get this whole block shut down,
When you come to my town, see a couple things that ain’t pretty,
I apologize if it gets wild,
But we gotta represent ours,
We gotta represent ours [x3]
When you come to my City

[Kid Ink]
Welcome to my city;
Palm trees, find me; High as a hippie,
20 for the chucks, ‘nother 20 for the dickies,
If you see them Boys in the Hood like Kenny better run like Ricky,
Snapback, hat back, quick tell ‘em that we run LA; Track practice,
Now, you know where I’m at you ain’t gotta mapquest,
Ridin’ down Hollywood, lookin’ for a Actress,
Tell ‘em that it goes,
Thursday, eat in, Friday, my house, Saturday, Crenshaw, Sunday back at my house,
Rollin’ in a 64, somewhere down, 64,
Headed to the Jungles to the Don, See my nigga?
Oh,
Born and Raised, I am no pretender, niggas know I came from the gutta like Splinter,
And I got Nina on my hip like a side chick,
Anybody ask tell ‘em that it’s Westside bitch!

[Chorus]

[Killa Kyleon]
H-O-U-S-T-O-N, T-E-X-A-S,
Am I trill bet they say yes, I’m that cat that they say next,
HNIC I keep it G, just like that V I’m at they neck,
I’m a creature not Aretha but I do get my respect,
Run these tracks, lace up my Nikes; So I can go chase these checks,
When I get mine I’ma thank my grind, walk in that bank, give Chase my check;
Cash my shit, due self I split it,
Hop in that slab better brace yo neck, All eyes on me includin’ yo bitch,
If you want that hoe keep yo hoe checked,
Paint so wet that I gotta rock trunks,
We roll slabs and we don’t do dunks,
Shoes be four’s and they don’t be pumps,
We smoke Kush and we don’t do bump,
FN cocked and we don’t do pumps,
One false move that’ll get you slumped,
City of the Syrup where we sip that lean,
Put a 4 in that 20 and we on that punch

[Chorus]

[Red Cafe]
Cadillac 24′s, smoke tint, stash box,
Timberland, Pelle Pelle, Gucci Belt, strap slot,
New York, I said it New York,
Better show respect when you come to my city take yo shoes off,
I am at the toll booth, collectin’ my payment,
Hottest in the hood got my name carved on the pavement,
My niggas is A-List, in the corner office, somethin’ like royalty, princess in my crosses,
Hoes got ‘em lined up, bitch take a number,
These lames layin’ paper on ‘em I be layin’ lumber,
In the Rotten Apple, ballin’ like a Knickerbocker,
Now you can meet the Fockers; or you can meet the choppas,
Rat-A-Tat-Tat-Tat,
Tat, Tat, all my niggas in the ‘Rack,
Drop that oil in that water, whip it up it’s right back,
In the Coup bulletproof, Ah, boy hood approved,
No limit money, they hollerin’ Hooty-Hoo

[Chorus]

[Machine Gun Kelly]
Kells, from the city where, outta towners get jumped no Nike Airs,
Buyin’ a bottle in the club and throwin’ off another because a motherfucker plottin’ over my chair,
And it’s my year, this my day, me and all the boys all Smokey like Friday,
Hit the Eastside turn in the driveway, but I got power in the West, Kanye;
My city taught me to speak that talk,
How to crack that stove when that heat turned off,
How to rock my Chucks till my feet fall off,
What to do when the lights in the streets went off;
I’ll D-I-E for the Orange and Brown,
Lebron left, I took that crown!
Everyday on tour, but the 7-1 North tattooed let me know I’m Cleveland bound,
I’ma Midwest boy, salute my team, EST over everything,
THC up in all my green, lit it up for the people in the middle of the,
HOLD UP!
Lace up bitch, Lace up bitch,
Anybody hate come taste it bitch,
Two white balls and a head above yo neck, that’s called a facial BIATCH!

[Kid Ink]
See we do it big in my city, we can get this whole block shut down.