This is a song about "West york"

But they still got them nice emcees from the west,

Box logo on my muthafuckin' chest

It's like a quest, hard as bullets from wild west

Deep down, i'm an emo fuckin' faggot that's depressed

Faking the be best saying you from the west

And we gotta win, she wanna be my friend

My rhymes, new york states of minds, lyrical crimes, in fact

I welcome with my handsand the red sun sinks at last

Repping that west with knock out

I must go like fly route

Eastside, take em to the west

Shawty my bait, she say she never scared

Fuck barack’s change, we’d rather talk milian’s hair

King of new york, yo i'm already there