Lyrics:
the streets of New York City
He's almost dead from breathing in air pollution
He tried to vote but to him there's no solution
Living just enough, just enough
Yeah it's the talk of New York (yeah, yeah, yeah nigga!)
Mixed with that N.W.A. shit (what up? real talk of New York nigga)
I mean that G-Unit shit
move
Tools I got take a nigga out his shoes
Tools I got leave a nigga on the news"
Unc' said, "Papi, you a bad man"
He went back to digging in the trash
in Hollywood cause I remember when I had 50 Cent, up In Da Club
All my life I knew I was major, I don't need no major
I don't even write rhymes, I
line like private events in airports
And live by the code I'mma bust mine
Word, tunes, start shorty while I got a tongue in my ear
Don't get a stain
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
New york city... You are now rockin with 50 cent.. Are you ready? [Gun click] I said are you ready? See you wit me nigga? DROP DEAD. Paid for a hoofy
there won't be no ho in us
They pop shit like they're gonna do shit but no one does
From New York down to Texas, back up to Los Angeles
We've changed
Line size
I done used eight up
Out of nine lives
I don't need 50 cent
I got five dimes
That'll cook clean
Look mean
Dust off prints
Might have fuck Joe
hills
With a whole lotta Benjamins thumbin
Say its all bout da cash
So I turned 50 cent to a dollar I got off my ass
But once I got a bag
Everything
pounds
I ain't from a softy town
Niggas'll break your bones, crack your faith
Call the doctor, let him put it back in place
Ha ha ha, 50 Cent yeah what
down
Check it, thou shalt not fuck wit North Seed Papa
50 Cent, I'll break yo ass off propa'
This new place like home, New York - New York
I run this
suckers and rats
Unless it's a chair and a rope
Come in my city we live like the Mafia
And bitch I'm the head to the boat
Million dollar dreaming
Really I
the air of New York
So everybody'll pick em up, kissin em up
Treatin' them like they own
In dis hood we call home
Fist fight till we grown and
These guns
Hundesöhne sind auf Clubhouse, Bullets im TEC-Lauf
Und das Game löst sich in Luft auf so wie der Kushrauch
Bbm, Gang-Raid
Narcotraffic im Bentley
in Hollywood cause I remember when I had 50 Cent, up In Da Club
All my life I knew I was major, I don't need no major
I don't even write rhymes, I
laughing
They high from sniffing coke off a twenty-cent Andrew Jackson
City lights spark a New York night
Rossi and Martini sipping, Sergio Tacchini
you live New York City
No better place in the world
Oh yeah now aren't you pretty
Gimme a cowboy any day of the week
Lucchese Boots tight Wrangler
Now it's 2006 I need a new bottom miss
It's aight they can talk I'm amused by the pricks
I'm the news out the bricks nigga who's hot as this
I bet
alle fertig
So wie mein Part - jetzt ist Doc
Ich bin draußen, wie Mario Barth in New York
Chef zu dem ket ist jetzt am Apparat
Der für Lügenmedien nur
(Can I get your autograph?)
The yellow cabs in the city would stop for me (yo, taxi)
I wouldn't need collateral to buy property
If I was white,
ain't no sand, but I'm on my beach chair
Visa knottail, and dog we not frail
You don'r club in New York, you party out in Scotsdale
I can't be clowned,
used to
(Da da da)
They ain't used to
(Da da da da da)
With these new rappers, all the music's iffy
Listen to their stuff and it's always fifty-fifty
to New York and stay alive
All I need is my loaded four-five
And sweet and deadly like a killer beehive
And I can stalk in Fort Greene park
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