Lyrics by：Carter Russell

Geyeah NYMP the realest uhh

This is educated thug MU-SIC ******

Life's a battle mean streets eat you alive

Blocks'll have you tryin to maintain your course

Through the potholes and gravel

Hot holes and what-have-you tryin to clock dough

Foes tryin to pop shots through you by code

Pigs tryin to grab you and lock up your soul

Through the Hot Apple nighttime shots crackle

Bucka bucka bucka

Fiends tryin to gaffle you

Not only cokeheads but the Feds in the Mercuray Topaz

After you up the avenue

Tryin to give you big numbers you got math to do

Tryin to make you miss summer ****that ain't cool

I caught smaller cases tryin to get cap or two

Up against the wall tryin to pass through

Ghost-like hear the cries from the tortured souls

Most nights I hold my toast tight and it goes like

Jay-Z

N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

Uhh uh-huh-uh-UHH N.Y.M.P. the realest

Marcy.. Brooklyn..

Yo I come through gettin money sittin on twenties

******throwin me shade but ain't ****sunny

Hot shells only thing ******could get from me

Cocktails thrown in your living room KA-BOOM

I'm so confrontational

They shoulda never let me go on probation yo

I'm a hustler except that..

No correctional facilities can correct that

I took a step back I viewed myself seen where my head was at

It's where that dough is gotta homey get that

Gotta get away some try but head back

Uhh street smart ******got left back

Some died they left stacks

Me I ball right and on top of that I'm dog nice

Jigga been cold as ****before ice

Not before Christ but a long ****in time

Get your mind right ******

N.Y.M.P. the realest

Uh-huh-uh-UHH N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

Uhh uh-huh uh-UHH N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

Marcy.. feel me..

I looked Death in the face years back

I held tears back I gathered myself and stared back

I'm from where you don't crack the weak don't live

You gotta bounce back homey the streets don't give

I take and rape villages who gon' stop him

Not Rudy Guiliani not Hillary Rodham

Still I still pop him

****I grassy knoll and hilltop him it's all political now

I think big when I spit at you now

Between my dog and the figures the four gonna get'cha

Between life and death they killed my spirit

So what little life I got left y'all can expect me to ball

I myself teacher said I was a lost cause

Cause I used to roam them halls

Still I spit knowledge dropped out of high school skipped college

Who woulda thought I'd make it Big like Ms. Wallace

Uhh yeah N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

Brooklyn what N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

Uhh uh-huh-uh-UHH N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

Marcy.. Brooklyn N.Y.M.P. the realest feel me

Educated thug mu-sic ******

This is Brooklyn this is gangsta this is project

Real ****N.Y.M.P. the realest ******

Marcy Brooklyn stompin grounds

****with me