Lyrics Where I'm From - Joe Budden

Where I'm From

They say we not New York, but dudes get stabbed
Get shot like New York, niggas get robbed
Get got like New York, but they don’t make the news
'Cause it’s not New York
Hope you heard me, boy, look, I’m from Jersey, boy
Where it’s still half off that Hershey, boy
I was driving, shotgun was Ike when that faggot on the bike
Rode by and tried to murk me boy
But chill, here’s the head crack, I’m an O.G., I don’t wet that
If you know me then you know it’s get back, you nah mean?
The nah mean is tools gon' flare
In a society if you nobody then actually who’s gonna care?
They won’t call your next of kin, I’ll make your family aware
And the whole hood is dipped up so having sanity’s rare
I’m from where embalming fluid ain’t stop yet and city hall’s primary project
Is knocking down the projects, they ain’t finished that yet
See, I’m from carjack central, niggas’ll go in your ride
While you pick up the Jersey Journal, «Damn, so and so died»
I’m from where the dope game is bad, so every hustler can’t hustle
Tryna hustle them a rapper slash muscle them a rapper
They can find them a young nigga with a few bars to say
'Cause nigga, rap’s the new coke, wet, weed, and yay
I’m from where Champ had it locked 'til dude had him shot
For everybody to see and everybody was relieved
I’m from where the blocks is dark, so walk the turf with ya gun cocked
And the hospitals’ll fuck you up worse than a gunshot
From where screws is loose, gunpoint dudes strip nude
And that ain’t even half of New Jeruve, nigga
Uh oh, uh oh!
Stack Bundles!
Riot Squad!
DJ Envy!
Listen
From the last stop on the A train, where the youngin let his thang bang
We shoulda left the two cops, but they steady left the lane
Where the skies is gray 'cause no stars around, Father MC was the last star
around
Home of the niggas’ll jack Latifah, left her in the street
40 niggas caught boom for the 41st side piece
Where Edgeman, Raw P, and Redford rawed cap
So get your shit yacked, there’s no gettin' it back (Nah)
I’m from where bitch niggas go to jail and turn thug, and… (What else?)
Crip niggas go to jail and turn Blood, and (What else?)
Niggas come home, flip a lil' weed
End up with barbershops and music stores with CD’s
From where niggas on 17th was gettin' it and went on T (What happened?
), and they own workers left them uncomfortably
From where they argue 'bout whose fuckin' whose broad, and who’s drivin' what
cars
And niggas hatin' like he got that from insurance jobs
Where old heads was gettin' it, but kept gettin' robbed
So they wanted out the game and converted to God
Where niggas play the corners 'til they pecks is done
And out-of-towners come to blam blam the cannons and run
From the other side where Queen’s niggas don’t come through much (Nah)
The record exec’s wouldn’t sign us, said we’d done too much
So they ran over to Brooklyn and thought them dudes was to trust
I don’t know what the fuck they thought, them niggas look foul just like us
From where the streets get the best of you (Bruh), the beef’s inevitable (Bruh)
When you come through half price, animal new
From where the soldiers fall and thugs we are all
I’m from Far Rock, son, just thought I’d remind y’all
The sixth borough, shit’s thorough, Far Rock, son, ain’t nothin' nice (nothin',
nothin'…)
The sixth borough, shit’s thorough, Far Rock, son, ain’t nothin' nice (nothin',
nothin', nothin'…)