Lyrics:
forever
I need a bad thot cause they down for what ever
Ask roka got the beast coast on his bonze
Nation heat do this for the razza
New york living got
mistake
My t-shirts make more money than your mixtape
So I tell a boy Boy Better
Know it’s money making season
Book a flight to New York for no reason
made us
Life's a risk, so is getting in my way
Sometimes I just wish, I can have it all today, yeah
Bitch you fake news
Everything about you boy
be lonely, living in New York City"
And I'm playing the intro which is kinda plaintive and trancelike its like
"blin blin blin"
When lo and behold,
Hell boy passing by, you can hear the fucking Harley
New York represent, foe kings since we rookies
Well they say
Don't do things for love
You get what I
boy
On the outskirts, of what works
Live those who go for broke, and merk to get merked
Live by the sword and die by the semi
Not part of my ways, but
It seems like only yesterday
I sailed from out of cork
A wanderer from Erin's isle
I landed in New York
There wasn't a soul to greet me there
that was even possible
You should call the news be the first to dial
But til then I'll be in my black hoodie,
On your boys snapchat story
When all
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 the fire making noise
In a field
Hear me, see me
Welcome to Soundview projects
Bronx, New York, 10473
Intersection action ribs touching
New gutter smacks replacing the whole
In today's music news: the ever controversial Tupac Shakur has
Just released another album under the alias Makaveli.
Music insiders are running wild
them mirrors and the marble floors
A country boy, a city girl
They're in their own world
A match heaven made
It's champagne and beer down by the lake
He
me pictures I just keep that on the low low,
this that New York City inspiration mixed DC gogo, uh!
5am I'm getting right in Denver,
did whatever with
crucified
The rich homie that never forgets the Biggie lines (Bad Boy)
(That's so disrespectful)
Disrespectful, took ballin' to new levels
Game time,
to the day that I'm deceased
Even then I pray I'm living through these beats
Dope boy, you can tell by my sneaks
Burning Amsterdam green where it falls like
like I don't know
Man that shit be tough
When you had friends
That switched then
Turned to foes
But I ain't new to this
In fact I'm used to this
Gotta
Give me a phrase or a line
Give me the rich
Give me the poor
Give me the peace and
Give me the war
Granny Smith she's in New York
The Big Apple it's
the pussy in the system
Playing bricks in my backpack, no kidding
Spit what I'm living, I'm giving all facts
These other niggas spitting they shit
Is just so
the world, word
[A.B. Money]
Listen there was a man in Brooklyn, New York City
Where the guys are fly and the ladies looking pretty
I'm
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
this money like "In God We Trust", trust your boy
It's a given, living this life it was written
Especially for me, I'm what the recipe is missing
Blow
Danny.. Danny.. Danny.. Danny.. Danny Boy! - x2
You can hear it in an Irish bar, sung by drunken men
But the only words that I can hear,
Are "sung from
the best rendition
Al Capone he sent to prison
Citizen Kane came fast and quickly
Conquering ol' New York City
Poking fun at superstition
Media became
Yeah yeah yeah
No I ain't from the south, bitch I'm from New York
Get cold in the wintertime, chills when I walk
Muh'fuckers wanna give me time, only
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