Livin' Proof - Albee Square Mall lyrics

[Verse 1: Skyzoo] Word to the love of a broke chain That grew up into a Cuban, linked to a smoke range We grew up to get into it, wanted it how they show it But grew up kind of fast like wondering how they load it Product of the ‘80s, '95 Navy The Empire roller ring was out here tryna raise me Straight up out the K, my friends get at the grip And the dream was to stick up the stickers like Matty Rich Super hero Louie capes, went they get to the park And the fiends is tryna cop off benefit cards From the two parent home courtesy of two apartments But both were the ones with the most heart of the heartless So, therefore, I don't make music for Fader I make mine for the guys that grew up how I came up Throw the same answer if you ever got and looked at me Tell ‘em win or lose, baby, everything is fortune [Hook: Skyzoo & Torae] Yeah, the product of Albee Square Mall, baby Same era forever, we want it all, baby "Where Brooklyn at?" - Notorious B.I.G Yeah, we been busy running the globe Might travel round the world but we always rep home [Verse 2: Livin' Proof] I'm a product of the borough really knew that work We'll do that dirt, shoot through your skirt 40 Smith on me, big homie we them hurts East side all the time, homie, know your turf I'm Notrive Ave Coney Island out to Williamsburg And everything in between that n***a, I k**ed the swerve Gortex pants sag to show the Fendi belt Your b**h on me like Livin' major in indie wealth Ha, I know that ignorant sh** you like I'm on that ignorant sh** you need Run through the door with the 4 like get on your knees You know what's up, we came for them keys n***a please, these things is gaining murder mileage Livin' Proof, I'm truth, see I emerged from violence Smartened up, got aggressive, I had to work my talents And Cooper Projects (YAOWA), I know you heard about it [Hook] [Verse 3: Torae] Posted on the corner where my men shoot Good hoodies, cold sagging over Timb' boots Gold chain it swang, the whole gang that hang That click clack and bang, that's what we into Hollering at the joints as they walk pa**ed Tryna bag, yo' shorty got a fat a** Get the number, hit the camera on, get to hump her A year later you don't f** with your baby mother Your baby brother came home from a bid Right back to selling crack, he can't get him a gig Your moms is stressed out, your pops done left out And your grandmother get stuck raising with your kids This the life of the borough Kinda trife but we thorough Got vices in plural but f** dying in zero I'ma get it while I'm breathing And even by breaking even I win, just pray God know the reason I sin And "Where Brooklyn at?" [Hook]