This is a song about "Pat smith of the new york yankees"

And the dirty ladera, i can't forget where i came from

We dont die, starin down the barrel of a smith & wesson

I confessed bein' atheist, they said i was possessed

And new york to this very day has got the best,

I was so young, raised in the streets of fort smith, homegrown

The streets in need of a king, you can tell 'em i’m home

You yankees think you heard the best but lemme wreck em

Just in case a nigga never see that thrill again

Those flashing lights seem to cause a glare

King of new york, yo i'm already there

Got bitches in new york california and decatur

I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for

Got in more trouble as i got up that age

If i'll be a king of new-york i wouldn't change

This audemar on my wrist, got it harder than missed

Puttin all those cali and new york jobs on my wishlist,