Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Jacques DuPassage
Jacques DuPassage
Guitar
Josh Rovira
Josh Rovira
Guitar
Jack Bidleman
Jack Bidleman
Drums
JJ Hidalgo
JJ Hidalgo
Electric Bass Guitar
Evan Hendry
Evan Hendry
Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jacques DuPassage
Jacques DuPassage
Songwriter
Josh Rovira
Josh Rovira
Songwriter
Jack Bidleman
Jack Bidleman
Songwriter
Jonathon Hidalgo
Jonathon Hidalgo
Songwriter
Evan Hendry
Evan Hendry
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ángel Cano
Ángel Cano
Mastering Engineer
Brian Brignac
Brian Brignac
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Wife beaters with crop tops
Tall buildings to hop scotch
Give me
A reason to leave
A reason to sleep please
Throw up
Your guts on the pavement
Like angry cavemen
Give in
To fever disease
Show off
Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh
I feel it
I feel it
I feel it in my sleep
The pigs, they want their loser now they're sneering at me
And the children
The children
Are fighting in the streets
But I get it now
I'm starting to see
That it's hotter
And hotter
Thousands agree
It sits inside my stomach -- makes it harder to breathe
And it's starting
And growing
It's growing on me
I get it
We're from New York
Yeah
We're from New York
May my modest home
Ever get to be
In the modern Rome
That wasn't made for me
But that's not what it seems
I'll make a deal with God
On my hands and knees
Coo coo cachoo
That I'll always be
Someone who rents
Like the bobos in SoHo
And hobos in tents
I feel it
I feel it
I feel it in my sleep
The pigs, they want their loser now they're sneering at me
And the children
The children
Are fighting in the streets
But I get it now
I'm starting to see
That it's hotter
And hotter
Thousand degrees
It sits inside my stomach -- makes it harder to breathe
And it's starting
And growing
It's growing on me
I get it now
We're from New York
Yeah
We're from New York
Written by: Evan Hendry, Jack Bidleman, Jacques DuPassage, Jonathon Hidalgo, Josh Rovira
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out