in on what i made its just so logical, tragic, magic, pitiful tell everyone that you know that i wont be coming around no more tell everyone i'll be
think the judge can see through the sweat as he gives you your fine for a post-panic attack speeding ticket on a 90 degree day in New York. And yeah,
got aquitted But if we fight our rights, one day we got to get it [Chorus] [Drag-On:] Yeah, chea, uh, uh Niggas in New York like on the cell Turn to
came from New York, you know, I'm really . . . Don: Are you from New York? Phyllis: Yeah, you can't tell! Huh? Don: No . . . Phyllis: I tell you something
I hit a flow all dipped in lotion Sit back and sip Mo as I'm countin' my dough Grand Puba Maxwell, Doogie, comin' with the New York We keep it real like
World You don't know the hell I'm wit So y'all chics can't tell me shit Come on now, everyone clear the way Under cars better stay Shots will ricochet
power, respect, it's cash and grams The streets demand it, everyone cautious Walk with your cannons, keep on, cock them hammers See a vick, tell him,
decided one day, to tell her my feelings was true I couldn't live without her so I told her, facing my fears But honey's only response, was a face full
you hatin' on mine? And I know you got back so fuck the gats this rap is breakin' ya spine I'm glad you dissed me - and I still got love for New York
blood Which shall be shed for you for the love" He said his grace then "Let's grub" Everyone dug in their plate by Christ's face didn't budge I guess
the name? Millenium games, it's all the same Sinners repent, many for fear End of the year, everyone cheers Only a few hear my voice in they ears Everyone
Harlem World You don't know the hell I'm wit So y'all chics can't tell me shit Come on now, everyone clear the way Under cars better stay Shots
a story about two brothers, Rob and Vic Grew up in the world alone God forgot about them, hmm Forced to fend for themselves In the Rotten Apples of New York
for the jump from Bolivia Asides that, he fat, livin on his own-ah Diminshed the friendship style, now a loner Relaxed while his family is gagged and tied up in New York
block tell them get Of the strip, You 8 ball shaving dog you a ain't flipping a brick I chase rappers of the stage tell them get Of the Mic You just
small town clowns, always got something to say So we packed our bags and headed for the lights Nothin`s better than a blow-out New York night When I hit that place that everyone
near plus man right now I'm up in New York That mean that shit is gettin dropped, these boys is up on they clocks Recording miracles everyday soon that everyone
s in my face and I'm Behind the bassline Someone that I knew but I hardly met Told me, it's hopeless I'm a slut for the New York Times She made my heart
