Princess Nokia - ABCs of New York Lyrics

A is for the apple
Take a bite and spit it out
B is for bodega
Eating on your mama couch
Low bazooka with a Puerto-Rican chula
Says she working in the city and she getting mula
C is for the crib
The cats that call you catch
Cbgb's babies sneaking Blondie through the back
D is for the downtown kids that's hittin' licks
Skater boys in the park tryna fuck some white chicks
E is for the East Side
Ruff Ryde', ride or die
Motorbikes from every side, flying down the FDR
Breaking dutches in the car

G is for the ghetto girl in Rainbow clothes
Baby hairs and well done toes
Single mothers carry those
Bummy sneakers, what are those?
Get in going, golden go
Hunts Point got the hottest hoes
Inner city tragic woes
Splattered street, the bloody holes
Shorty dancing on the pole
Casually it's casual, B
Bloody hands with the anatomy

Jehovah witness at your door
Acting like nobody home
Tv off, all alone
Kick the door, mama Jonesin' on the phone
Bata and a doobie on
Waiting on her tax return
Low lives lighting L's
Pouring down for ones they love
Tompkins Square, lower east
Delancey for the deli meats
You don't come to C or D

I'm in Manhattan like I'm Woody Allen
Jewish, Puerto-Rican and a little bit Italian
Sitting on the steps outside the Natural History
New York fucking City and I love the history
Everything a melting pot
Every block is fucking hot
83rd the train stop
Open cases old as shorty braces
Pick you up on warrant squad
Now they running faces

Pick you up by the park
We was voguing by the pier
Paris burning full of Queens
Hit the Village every year
Rollin' now to the rave
Village Voice, six page
I was diving off the stage
Going out every day
Stickball in the summer, you know it's summertime
Schomburg, eatin' soul food, singing Doo-Wop every night
Subway trains goin' by
Squad is sittin' St. Marks
Shooting up in Tompkins park
Know it's dirty after dark
Tunnels taking turns, playing tag on the curb
Touchin' on some titties, taking change out your purse

Undercover agents, I can spot a mile away
Yo, I hate the fucking cops, NYPD get away
Underground on MTA
Close my eyes and ride the train
Back and forth on every day, anywhere, anyway
Xerox copied Zines stapled onto poser trees
Got a show, come and see
New York is the place to be
Where you go and live your dreams
Livin' in the city you can't be a xenophobe
This the melting pot, and the soup is never cold
Young lords, young lords
They live inside of me
I got a problem, B, with white supremacy
Rollin' through my zip code
One-double zero-two-nine
Abc's of New York, and I'll be doing fine