Taking over, block by block,
chipping away at the heart and soul of our neighborhoods.
Keep your fucking pub and give me back my chimi spot.
Take your organic market to midtown and give me back my supermercado.
I don’t want a fancy haircut in your overly priced salon,
I want a five dollar shape up son.
Our hood was “hip” before you showed up to fuck shit up.
You ain’t doing us a favor, you ain’t our fucking savior.