I get by with the help of my wit It's worked thus far by the looks of it To hide in plain sight, i fear i've lost my touch To be quite honest, you're not missing much Bushwick boys, east village girls Cross the bridge, they wouldn't dream of it Rebels and runway queens Dancing on shattered dreams Time to kill and an aim to please I drown my sorrows with relative ease Smiling, beguiling They don't care that i'm lying A different scene, it's the same routine Bushwick boys, east village girls Spurn the city yet hate the town Showtime and halfway crooks Together, alone out here