The Tunnel's End (Staten Island)

It's New York's wittiest, check what's under my titty
It's really don't got a Philly, it's bout to be Goat, it's billy, it's Craft
The real love him and the white hipsters mad
Kiss my ass 'fore you catch a jab to those fake glasses
Check, I'm headed to Staten, you know the Wu district
I'm just waitin on the ferry like my tooth missin
They say the game's dictated by how the youth livin
I say it's reciprocal, I'm bankin that they do listen
Fuse visions of grandeur anchored by the truth
Cursin teachers out at 10, say I had defiant youth
Started drinkin a lot, I was tryna find the proof
In that 80 per bottle that's mad evidence, wooh
I was on a quest for love and music is in my roots
Pops taught me to listen after he taught me how to shoot
He was nice with the percussions guess that's why I beat up eardrums until they see the light like the concussion would be nice if the discussion included I
But til then the real know, ironic I don't got a ceiling cause my real flow
They screamin "Fuck the world" but they deal dose
Me, I'm numb to the music, I don't feel yours
Kick that hard shit like I got a steel toe
If they gotta pay you to give a fuck, you a real hoe
I do this for art, for love, because I gotta
Hell's Kitchen devil, ain't never touched no Prada
It's Craft