draw bad card Well, then the bag a lip service it nah help the plan Have to try and elevate we young musicians This is something a got to tell to everyone
Before my face I trace the lines on the floor Find my way back to Westmoor I still see the teachers that I sat before and hated even then ?Cause Colma stays New York
KNOW I HAD TO KEEP BROOKLYN ON THE TRIGGER FINGER (Get low Pap!) Five boroughs of death, you don't understand I got New York City in the palm of my hand
m from 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
collar Its chief of police, grease bond, tell me to follow Treated me to everything, no taxin, maxin Gives me a hotel suite for me to relax in Seems 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
And I watched the Atlantic Ocean rise to meet New York. And everyone involved got way too scared that life was way too short. And we all sang songs about
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, you're
still 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
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 of tears
everyone) Thank you "Minstrel Show" (Thank ya) thank ya, I'm Percy Miracles, Mr. Diggs.. You sound so wonderful, baby [Mr. Diggs harmonize] "Hi, this is Devon [?] out of Brooklyn, New
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
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
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
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
bad card Well then the bag a lip service it nah help the plan Have to try and elevate we young musicians This is something a got to tell to everyone