Lyrics:
at a five and dime
She would read Dostoevsky
By the yellow moon
That hung like an orange in the tree
While I worked on the words
To the mystery tune
Bitch, I'm running back, hit you with a knee slap
Coughing off a fuckin joint, I might need a CPAP
Bought an NYC hat, lookin' like I'm jschlatt
This
and call that hoe van Gogh
I got the syrup, sippin on drank, yeah i be pourin in mango
Im feelin like jeff bezos
Better stay out the way hoe, bitch you
Rohann..."
"Uh-huh"
"Who used to sell bang"
"Uh-huh"
"DT's found his hand in the back of Bennigans"
"What?"
"In a plastic bag with a note attached"
"Saying
Yeah man this the ep
This the hip hop ep right here
We on a this a Jayz type beat right here
Yeah I got by Yattaracks by the way
Reporting live from
a face like Cosby
Gangsta,certified, loverboy it ain't sex if it ain't sloppy
You nowhere by my side it's kinda hard not to pretend
Jumped in head first
That's where I'll be, my baby (that's where I'll be, my baby)
In my heart (oh yeah)
I'll always keep you with me (not a day goes by)
Not a day goes by
yachts
And put my people in a spot
Where they don't gotta watch there back at night, legal bids in the drop
The only man I fear is god, gotta make my
out da mud
Scamming on fees
Coun’it
Coun’it
In a city that no sleep
NYC
Coun’it
Coun’it
(Grr grr baow)
Verse 1
I got da dope
Hoes are fo’ show
by grocery bags
Whole school buying your shirt, now nigga that's fad
Just take a chance now
Its in your hands now
My bad on the low we were tripping
You opened your eyes, barely five, beaten back, but alive
Only black, kid arrived in a school full of white
Youth taught to despise you
Blocked you
with green shells, man, he think he Donatello
He live by sword, you die by sword, he said this ain't no Zelda
I cut back on the weed and pills, I feel so
you wit' me?
(Yeah)
L.B.C., N.Y.C., D.P.G., Heavy D
All up in yo' frame, Pretty Tone type game, now listen
I know this sunny who be lifty off
all afternoon
His wife Norma she sat in the back,
Sewing sweatbands in all of his hats
She listened to the radio, some times I'd sing her a tune
Chorus
the Men in Black (y'know what I'm saying, fuck a check up like Saks Fifth)
Ooh, bitch tryna finesse my chain, she come back, then she getting smacked
they grave
Jones Girls, Emotions singin' back in our day
Dilla dudes still bitin', they wish to be like you
Producer extraordinaires, knowing their
out of town
In an upstairs apartment, that was three corners down
Click spot for my round
Jeff used to scope pounds
Tanya ran into me, her and Amber
the back
Of that palace garden place
There wasn't a cloud in sight,
Nor people strolling by.
You held your hand in mine and I sighed,
For there was
[Intro: see-Murder]
Tytanic, let's wake 'em up, ya heard?
Yeah, it's real out here
Killa block notch, wit' the ODB
NYC, CP-3, nigga, what?
Let
being sued by the IRS
And having more fun than the law allowed
Yeah, I'm talking loners and stoners
And sing about to come back home
And most likely too
Uncle Jeff played the fiddle in his Colorado home
And I backed him on the banjo so he didn't play alone
We've got five generations of a fiddle
pimpin up in N.Y.C.
It's just that Jigga Man, Pimp C, and B-U-N B
Yo yo yo.. big pimpin, spendin cheese
We doin - big pimpin, on B.L.A.D.'s
We doin.. big
Now thats the fraze that you hear on Mondays
But lets get a little bit deeper than that
Back when Jeff was on scratch
Back when I was on the rap
I used
And sing about to come back home
And most likely too far gone to get there.
Yeah, they were all most likely too far gone to get there
Jerry Jeff Walker
Discuss these back in nyc by jeff buckley Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In