He's got a MetroPCS and a bike and an alibi
Chinatown, downtown, to Crown Heights and Bed-Stuy

Green paths, grey paths, one way streets
Running through the grid trying to get to point B

Chinese food drivers taking wrong way rides
Driver side doors trying not to collide

Nothing in his mind but a five borough map
Left, right, north, south, east, west, he's seeing paths

His eyes going side to side, scanning for haters
Suspicious doorman pointing at the elevator

Later, he's sitting in the park and thinking
Then he hits the ground running when the burner starts beeping

So (?) and the train (?)
First goes up, the second goes down

James on Broome went six for five
And Mike in Union Square got three

Jimmy on Sixty-Ninth got one
Pablo wasn't home, so he got none
Like the boys in the park making (?)
Like a rook through the board he's seeing paths

At the Wilson Ave checkpoint, he's got to trust his instincts
And slips into the hands of the 83rd Precinct

"Don't touch my bag," he pleads, "Mr. Officer
Nothing in there but clothes and fabric softener"

Yeah they're perched outside every corner store
Cause the powers that be choose to surveil the poor

Avoiding eye contact every time he goes past
(?) the gut of the beast, he's seeing paths