Bklyn Masala Masta Ace (Ft. Leschea)

[Verse 1: Masta Ace]
I met her on the corner of Gates and Bedstuy
It was only right that I approached and said hi
'Cause she looked like no other chick I ever saw
She was on her way coming up out the cornerstone
I asked could I carry your bags and walk her home
I can tell she was new in New York just from her tone
'Cause she wasn't that typical rude and ignorant
Teeth-sucking and eye-rolling telling me leave her alone
We dipped and we yapped, we chit and we chat
About this and that and where she lived at, yeah
This may sound kind of Wu-Tang Clan-ish
But this butter-pecan honey was not Spanish
She lived like three blocks from my man
In New York for six months, moved from Pakistan
Well that explains the strange accent and the strange clothes
And that cute little diamond in your nose
She said, "I gotta wear this gear every Sunday but
You gotta see how I look come Monday" – "Word!?
Meaning I can see you again? Maybe
Give you a call, take you out on the weekend"
She winked at me and kind of laughed
Ripped a piece of the grocery bag and wrote her math
You can bet your last damn dollar
That I'ma give you a call, Brooklyn Masala