paroles de chanson New York - KHM
[Intro:
Kool
Keith]
Yo,
you
know
what?
You
could
go
to
all
the
states
in
the
world
See
girls
with
long
hair,
flat
stomachs
Goin'
back
and
forth
to
the
gym,
workin'
out
And
they
be
talkin'
to
you
You
get
in
New
York...
girls
be
frontin'
They
have
a
little
bit
of
tiny
hair
on
they
head
Or
some
just
walk
around
with
braids
You
can't
tell
'em
nuttin'
Yo...
they
be
killin'
me
[H-Bomb]
Easy
mon,
blood
clot,
blood
cleat
with
gold
teeth
He
peekin'
at
Kool
Keith,
Marc
Live,
and
me
We
- fly
LAX
to
JFK,
take
it
one
way
You
twisted,
Jacky
J
ain't
plan
to
stay
I'm
on
a
one
way,
beamin'
a
poor
chick
in
L.A.
Play
- these
chickens,
break
rules
I
pack
steels,
do
big
drug
deals
You
in
tennis
shoes,
where's
your
heels?
And
you
expect
me
to
pay
for
these
meals
Where's
your
spouse?
You
live
with
your
moms,
is
that
a
mouse
I'm
breakin'
out
bounce,
my
man
Ice-T
got
a
penthouse
Four
deep
hits,
scores,
V.I.P.
We
fingerbang
chickens
in
lace,
no
space
- fast
race
Big
Lonnie
on
Webster
Ave
with
a
screw
face,
briefcase
Three
ki's
taste
with
a
rusty
screw
driver
and
waste
Your
right
hand
man
got
replaced
You
chase
- baby
makers,
parts,
heart
breakers
Want
papers
- yes,
them
Murray
gators
huh?
You're
man
work
in
Manhattan
up
in
Houlihan's
as
a
waiters,
laters
You
worship
them
slave
owners
on
green
papers,
haters
I'm
back
in
L.A.
with
three
hoes
in
a
Wilshire
skyscrapers
[Chorus
x2]
New
York
belongs
to
me!
(Not
him,
or
yooouuuu)
New
York
belongs
to
me!
(Not
him,
or
yooouuuu)
[Marc
Live]
I
walk
through
your
city
like
a
juggernaut
You
kids
is
astronauts,
all
in
space
Right
to
your
face,
no
welcome
mats
just
welcome
caps
A
community
of
big
city
kids
in
black
hats
Catch
me
in
a
New
York
strip
club
slappin'
a
phat
ass
You
don't
get
no
pass,
it's
the
big
three
- H,
Marc,
and
Keith
Top
general
chiefs,
no
games,
forget
the
friends
baby
Let's
go
straight
to
the
brains,
an
even
exchange
No
heated
exchange,
we
show
the
hotel
the
after
party
Lot
of
Bacardi
and
Limon,
heavy
smoke
and
plenty
of
grindin'
I
left
L.A.
real
quick
to
see
who's
rhymin'
-
Who's
talkin'
mess
and
who's
lyin'
Who
shippin'
weight
express
mail,
no
Greyhound
- we
flyin'
Forty-two
street
triple
X,
we
buyin'
Hot
97
nigga
gon'
play
us
some
new
shit,
or
we
gon'
start
ridin'
Me
and
Blaze
up
that
spot,
you
know
who
we
are
High
profile,
we
not
buyin'
the
bar,
real
grimey
One
E
& J,
one
Philly,
and
jake
behind
me...
BX
[Chorus
x1.5]
New
York
belongs
to
me!
(Not
him,
or
yooouuuu)
New
York
belongs
to
me!
(Not
him,
or
yooouuuu)
[Kool
Keith]
I'ma
tell
you
New
Yorkers
on
lock
down,
the
city
is
my
boo
You
shoulda
called
up
Clue
and
made
appointments
I'm
qualified
in
the
Metropolitan
area
I
shoulda
been
on
the
professional
too
None
of
y'all
rappers
don't
have
a
rule
Marketing
plan
out
there,
y'all
know
what
to
do
What
up
nizza?,
with
tight
beats
on
destinctive
tracks
like
the
RZA
On
four
DAT's,
computer
sequence
my
formats
I
step
on
MC's
like
subways,
rest
my
feet
on
rats
8,
000
rappers
comin'
out
this
summer
posin'
hard,
rhymin'
like
pussycats
Y'all
don't
shoot
nobody,
half
of
y'all
like
to
scratch
-
Like
kittens
in
a
batch,
most
of
y'all
scared
to
light
a
match
Blow
birthday
candles,
y'all
dealin'
with
girls
with
love
handles
Better
yet,
guys
still
standin'
in
front
of
Fat
Beats
lookin'
for
samples
I
laught
at
you
holdin'
champagne
tryin'
to
walk
in
the
club
like
Rambo
[Chorus
x2]
New
York
belongs
to
me!
(Not
him,
or
yooouuuu)
New
York
belongs
to
me!
(Not
him,
or
yooouuuu)
1 Intro
2 Really Want U
3 Nice Things
4 Game
5 U Jerk Chicken
6 Skit 2
7 Copy
8 New York
9 Rock Is Dead
10 Gotta Do
11 Space
12 Executive Decision
13 Sally
14 Girls (Junkadelic Remix)
15 Very Nice Thangz
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