Lyrics:
(land of the handgun)
Land of the beautiful (home of the shotgun)
Cursed by the hate we throw (You're dead if you ain't got one)
Is this the new
on
Ain’t from a gang but i bang with my bros
Call me a crook but i live by a code
If i do dirt do that shit on my own
And if i get caught gotta walk it
Just chillin' up in New York City
One got witty
Took his mask off, he a dumb ass
Got him on viddy
Somebody yelled out, "Yo, that's 'Chelle"
Blaow,
nigga do
(what's up?)
New York City's pharaoh, potato on the barrel
Shell-case muffle, make me come touch you
I finger-fuck my firearm, we intimate
I'm
Jamaica!
Just cause I'm guilty
We burn from Jamaica straight back to America
Don't live at all
Philly! Manhattan! Yo! Washington!
Let's get the party
family moved to
Baltimore as a young teenager, he took on
The name "MC New York"
While living in Baltimore
Tupac continued his acting by auditioning
Because they can, they did and do
So you and I could live together
Oh my God New York can talk
Somewhere in all that talks in all the answers
through music shit
It be some real thugs I grew up with
Phone calls from the feds, long stories told fast
Wishin' they'd get home in a hurry, 'cause we
from niggas/
I make styles for you/
To take home and dissect/
I'm blankin now/
Like I was born in Charlotte/
But I was born in Durham/
The city
and see
New York is the place to be
Where you go and live your dreams
Livin' in the city you can't be a xenophobe
This the melting pot, and the soup is
the rest of the city got no funds and no pity
Block by block, home by home, it burned down
The traffic was gridlocked at a gray signal light
The old movies
York, Vegas
Or use a French word, and flirt for my attention
Did I mention, that I was in love
Back home, my mother told me
That Daisy was a poison
Semi-autos roar in the building hall
Symptoms of bloodsport, the slugs are still in wall
Call it a New York state of mind, gotta take mine
In the daytime,
need a vacuum for?
New York City on my birthday, June 6th, 2014
I had that first meeting with Hov, plus I brought out the whole team
I drank that
know it's all year right? Hah!
I'm sitting here in the middle of New York City
The night before I gotta turn my second album in
Higher than
bein' harassed by police
I wrote my rhymes right there on the spot
New York City, 1984 corruption was hot
Cats sellin' Uzi's out the Jacob Javits
wanted, he is gone
Wanted man in New York City
Wanted man in San Anton'
Wanted man down in Lorado
Wanted man in Tupelo
Wanted man in the state
And I need a strong queen by my side when this shit gets tough
Next life we can live it up
Just maybe, Just maybe
Yeah Yeah, Uh What
Maybe next life we
hotel
room in New York City
with half a dozen naked women,
police are investigating sex with minors and drug abuse
Hey Charlie you sick bastard
You
would get the best of me
Start a new life with my family
Still this thing beats inside of me
No matter where I stay
I find my way back home
(Back
function, you can be from Grand Junction,
City of Angels, New York, London, Pekin, Moscow,
Kiev or, even fucking Birabidzhan, son -
All places feel like
complete light and be like
I'm a live life after this one crime
One line from the Megalah blow spines
Everyone knows the city's ill, cats kill
Still
listening to this right now, no matter how old you are, how young you are
Whether you on a school bus headed to get your education
Or you driving home from
nigga
Homie it's a New York City thing
You mess around and get hit with the guillotine
And we don't give a fuck about anything
Fall back don't make this
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