This is a song about "Brooklyn kids"

From brooklyn to bermondsey, i spit words with speed

We have so much in common, starting at the feet

Top of the dome wit it, or wroten lyrics

The kris kringle of rap servin little kids

Shout out bobby on hundreds

I wanna feed my babys kids

Why are the little kids having little kids

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

I prefer your applause without a handout

Its was a cold night in brooklyn when i first set out

I try and respect kids

She likes the way it hits her lips

I don't care who exist, the exorcist moving bricks

Battle savages scavenge libs and manage average kids..

They bringing me fish and chips

A lesser measure of beggar kids