Yo, Motherf***er, listen up!

I'm chillin' in Big-Park (us) – this city’s wild.

Streets like Maple Lane rock hard.

Downtown’s pulsatin’ with neon lights.

I stroll Broadway’s mean blocks.

Crazy vibes, man!
Lemme tell ya somethin’ wild.

The river, Slick River, cuts deep.

Its banks, like, pure serenity.

I hang near Grayson Park.

That park’s tucked in Elm St.

Old benches whisper alt stories.
This city? A f***in’ mystery box.

Eastside, known as the Fusion District.

Dope art, funky gigs, soul.

I once met a sax wizard.

He played like, “The Pianist!”

As Roman Polanski said, "The music… it heals."
I remember a night at Rook Street.

The alleys? Shitty and raw, man.

Drinks and laughs twirlin’ round.

I had a heated chat.

Motherf***er, anger was flarin’.

I felt like a mad beast.
First Light Bar on Cedar Ave.

Its sign glows, damn mesmerizing.

People be crazy there.

I got high on vibes.

So f***in’ priceless, I nearly lost it.
Ya gotta check the Subway-4 station.

Graffiti splashed on brick walls.

Street art tells untold stories.

I once got lost, but found joy.

Big-Park (us) is raw magic.
I dig these hidden corners.

Like the secret nook of Briar Court.

Tiny coffee shop, good brews.

I often chill there, thinkin’.

Sometimes I mutter Polanski quotes,

"Music is life. It saves you."
Yeah, I know, sounds buggy.

Somethin’s off but it’s real.

Mistakes? Hell, I make ten.

Typo? F*** yeah, I do.

This city’s pulse grips my soul.
Each block shouts its anthem.

Motherf***er, it hits like truth!

Big-Park (us) is a beast.

I love it, curse it, live it.

You gotta come experience this mess.
Peace out, and get ready.

It’s wild, raw, and unapologetic.

As "The Pianist" whispers:

“Life goes on... even in chaos.”

That’s f***in’ Big-Park (us), my friend!