Back on the Park Bench

[Intro] One crate One pen One park bench I’m back again (uh) [Verse 1] Graff tags peeling on the mailbox Corner store cat on the bread box Oldhead yelling ’bout the rent cost Same block, same talk, time’s lost Dice game rattling on the milk crate Cop car slow by the gate, that hate Pigeon wings flap over cracked paint Shorty say “dream big”, but she ain’t Nod to the kids with the book bags Metro card maxed, still look swag Cable wire hanging like a loose chain Mama frying rice, window spills flame I seen summers turn to gray slush Taped-up speakers, Friday rush Pass me the mic, let the dust jump Turn that knob till the heart thump (hey!) [Chorus] Back on the park bench, legends in the dark bench Stories in the scars on the bark, that’s the archive Hand to the sky when the kick hit hard This that New York, old soul, backyard Back on the park bench, rhyme like rent tense Every little sentence stretched like a long ride Hand to the sky when the kick hit hard This that New York, old soul, backyard (uh) [Verse 2] Train roar shaking up the loose glass Sticker on the pole say “skip class” Newsstand man selling old mags My face never there, but I spit facts Pay phone busted, cord long gone Still I talk to the ghosts when the night on Uncle in the window with the radio Telling me “stay sharp, keep ya radius small” Split a hero with the crew at the hydrant Steam from the grate like a siren Dreams in a shoebox under my bed Beat in my chest where the drum spread Every line like chalk on the curb Outline hope in a four-bar verse If the world won’t hand me my worth I’ll snatch that crown with a eight-track burst (yeah) [Chorus] Back on the park bench, legends in the dark bench Stories in the scars on the bark, that’s the archive Hand to the sky when the kick hit hard This that New York, old soul, backyard Back on the park bench, rhyme like rent tense Every little sentence stretched like a long ride Hand to the sky when the kick hit hard This that New York, old soul, backyard (backyard) [Bridge] From the rooftop clotheslines Down to the subway grime Every block, every stop Got a punchline, got a headline (uh) From the lunch line beef To the late-night preach If you feel that heat Let the whole hood speak (hey!) [Chorus] Back on the park bench, legends in the dark bench Stories in the scars on the bark, that’s the archive Hand to the sky when the kick hit hard This that New York, old soul, backyard Back on the park bench, rhyme like rent tense Every little sentence stretched like a long ride Hand to the sky when the kick hit hard This that New York, this that New York, backyard