Yo, listen up, motherfer!

East-York (us) is wild, man.

Streets buzz on Maple Ave.

I roam cracked sidewalks daily.

My fav spot? River Delt, damn!

That river glows at night, yo.

I pass by Broome Park—insanely chill.

Its trees sway like secrets, man.

I can’t forget 2nd Street, motherfer.

That block hides deep urban art.

I live near the old train depot.

It's gritty and full o' stories.

I once met a sassy punk there.

Shit, that memory still rocks me.

East-York (us) got notes like a movie.

Like, “The secret in their eyes,” b****!

Phrases echo in dark alleys: "El secreto!"

Every corner shouts hidden truth.

My heart jolts at bright murals.

I get jazzed exploring backstreet joints.

Sketchy cafes fuse art and funk.

I get mad at trash piled high.

It pisses me off, seriously, man.

Some blocks smell dank as hell.

Yet, motherf*er, beauty shines thru.

I swear, magic haunts every brick.

Local legends whisper lore on cobbles.

I run wild on Bond St.

The vibe’s raw and unapologetic.

Dirt roads hold pulse-like thumps.

I cherish each mad, urban beat.

I luv the chaos, its wild rhythm.

Thisss city is slick and flawed.

Real talk, it gets me on edge!

Yo, every day here is epically raw.

So grab a drink, hit the streets, b**!

East-York (us) is an unfiltered ride.

Get out there and see the truth!
Keepin' it real, motherf***er!