Lyrics:
In A-T-L I get my Gucci down at Phipps nigga
We call 'em slabs in New York they call 'em whips nigga
One hundred baby - Eightball gotta dip nigga
I'm not
Swagger it's in my roots
New York we the greatest, these rap niggas hate us
Most you niggas wanna be us, I can see it in they faces
They
laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters
Aren't bleeding me
Leading me
Going home
In
a hurry, just in the nick of time
Cause I do four things: rhyme, produce, teach, and bring to you new styles
Well here's the first style, right out
state of mind like a shooter
For the New York Knicks i'm the best
And if they ask Kawhi like the Clips
Tell 'em Dax got a glove with
The game in his grip
can throw on ice
Find us somewhere that we can drink it while the moon's up high
With your girl and your boys by a fire making noise
In a field
Here I am Lord please forgive me
For all the years I've been living for me
Please give me a new identity
Just call me a child of the one true King
nobody go tie your shoe
Nobody grew up by (by) your rule
Nobody horn your gun, how come, your tongue say killer then kill my mood
Light speed living in
don't make no sense
That the only way to find my rest
Is in obedience
Cuz
I've lived my whole life
By my own rules
I ain't know what living was
Until I
I'm the muthafuckin' nigga in yo city, nigga and in mine
Tell that hoe to leave me lone, nigga I only fuck wit' dimes
Got these niggas threatenin'
Puff Daddy
Bad boy
我是吹牛老爹
Bad boy I’m Puff Daddy
身
边总是围绕漂亮小姐
Always surrounded by pretty girls
嘴上
叼个牙签
开个豪
车
With a toothpick in my mouth and a fancy car
court
For an assault, that I caught, in Bridgeport
New York
Catch me if you can like the Gingerbread Man
You better have your gat in hand, cause man
Aye yo this your boy Busta Rhymes Conglomerate in the building
Big up to the homie F-O-L Aight
Dallas Texas stand up
We gon get the F-O-L's new
New york is up in this bitch, we on the move (haha)
Baltimore is in this bitch, we on the move
Sharks in the water (uh, yeah)
Snakes in the grass
Now
Finger on the trigger, nigga, hand on my nine
Smokin' blunts of skunk, making holes in punks
And only underground funk pumpin' outta my trunk
Live
hard
Best believe I'm
Living my life
My new bitch
Is freaky
Dripping need
A squeegee
Believe me
I'm living my life
Yea
Boy I'm living
Bentley roof
the streets of new york city
Hes almost dead from breathing in air pollution
He tried to vote but to him there's no solution
Living just enough, just enough
Going home
Where the New York city winters
Aren't bleeding me
Leading me
Going home
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters
Aren't bleeding me
Leading me
Going home
In
is your final warning yeah yeah yeah I can’t stop yawning
Maybe your head’s on the chopping block
Could be your neck’s on the line
Are you living in
who got baby mamas from the noila to new york
Who got every bitch attention in this motherfucker when he talk
Now who the fuck we talking bout, look,
your head
But you stole the property by how you always take offense
I feel like Trae when he in New York City
I always keep 'em on their toes like when I
because the one and only mighty Mos Def
You see I come into the party in a "be -Boy" stance I rock the mic so viciously
So all the real "be -boys
toking the fumes
If only you knew about the house I worked in
Conversating with a doubtless person
Cuh he would just pray I had something
Cuh the drug
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