Lyrics of 'My City' by Mack Maine

People die in, drive by in
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city
People die in, drive by in
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city

(Ayo come around my way, dare you to cross the bridge)

They hustle, they grind and they tussle
They struggle, they fightin
They muscle they way to the top, no sobbin, no crying
They put they fire in the pours
They flowin, they rhymin
They writing, they focused
They know that they glowing, they shining
Sell dope in the open, they loaking, they smoking, they drinking
They hope to be sanging the ball and that’s all that you think?
They ripin off your chain they trippin and creepin they banging
They throwing up flames, dippin and flippin, they slangin
They claimin blocks that don’t own and die for em
They taking shots to ease pain and so we writing for em
To make em stop for a second cause everyone hurt
If I can give them a record, I’d give them one verse
I try to inspire, they survivin, they not living
You can’t make a prediction, the future’s not written
Although I’m not a physician I try to stop and listen
It’s like we got a condition, word

People die in, drive by in,
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city
People die in, drive by in,
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city

(Homie I’m Mack Maine chyeah, chyeah, uh)

I’m from the city where the babies killin babies
And the babies havin babies
Ain’t no if, ands and maybes,
All the pastors is crazy
The baby mama’s lazy
The congregation seem like they suffering from constipation
And since female seem like they on a slow shit
Niggas from my hood holler, we ain’t bout that hoe shit
Soon as the beef jump off, mix with they glock up
And ride around and rock windows and hoops to tear your block up
It’s where the youngest practice prostitution
And where niggas don’t give a fuck about the constitution
They say Abe Lincoln freed the slaves
But honestly homie we still slaves
And we don’t behave
Ever since Katrina, my niggas ain’t got sense
And they ain’t got funs, but they all got guns
Wuzzup America? Give back in the hood
You motherfuckers put crack in the hood, that’s why

People die in, drive by in
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city
People die in, drive by in
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city

For you to call me a street nigga’s just an accusation
You’re probably calculating, the fact I be with them workers without the application
Making money in the city I’m from, from grinding
Until they get us tired it’s after racism
Our actions is affirmative, come get the affirmation
With our minds we can move mountains like the Appalachians
Victims, of circumstance not stopping until the whole block flooded like urkle pants
Niggas that creep up to squeeze on you with the hood pack
Violence every day of they life like mileage
So they go out in the streets smart despite college
Yep, the wrong mind framed with the right wallet
You listening to the heart of the city
I’m part of the greediest place you can visit
Niggas even fill the may up, spray up
And go somewhere way up till the way up
A bunch of slum dog millionaires, yeah yeah

People die in, drive by in
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city
People die in, drive by in
People cry in, every day
In my city, in my city, in my city, in my city