Lyrics:
are not convincin'
When Detroit blocks stay flocked with henchman
Niggas get popped for instance, infrared dot for distance
Get knocked by the cops,
living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York Times, The Daily News
It comes down to reality
To tell the world I love you in letters eight miles high
And then I'll go to Russia to paint the Kremlin blue
To paint the world by numbers is all I want
The black is by the fire
The lights are on the tree
Elvis sings Blue Christmas for you and me
Everything is perfect
The candles have it glow
The only
a New York state of mind
It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York
a New York state of mind
It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York
the heat in the Hamptons
With my baby by my side
And I want to climb up a mountain
See the Gilboa skies
Find peace in the Catskills
Catching a New York
spiked out, I can trip a referee,
Tell by my attitude that I most definitely from…
In New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of,
Theres
New York big city of dreams
And everything in New York ain't always what it seems
You might get fooled if you come from out of town
But I'm down by
Live from New York it's Saturday Nite
Live from New York it's Saturday Nite
Live from New York it's Saturday Nite
Live from New York it's Saturday
Murder
And them somebody gonna get stomped out by a nigga that's wearing Timbs
New York was killing me
New York was killing me
New York was killing
I dreamed of Judy Garland and of her bottled blues
Resting in a dressing room, shaking star dust from her shoes
She spoke of her beginnings
With blond hair, blue eyes, the whole shabang
I know one thing, police wouldn't always be watching me
Pull me over for nothing, constantly jockin' me
York, big city of dreams
And everything in New York ain't always what it seems
You might get fooled if you come from outta town
But I'm down by law,
Why can't you want me like the other boys do?
They stare at me while I stare at you
Summertime, East Side, New York City
It's too hot to sleep
Don't you know, he was the king of saxophones
Yes indeed he was;
Talkin' 'bout the guy that made it sound so good
Some people knew him by the Bean
a New York state of mind
It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The New York
either with a dime or a bad duck
Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana
38-snub, blue steel with no hammer
And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance
You might have seen one out in Minnesota
Or maybe down by the sea in Sarasota
But they were made back in Worcester Mass
Of aluminum and bakalite
Written by: blue/smith
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah
It's hot and dusty
Getting old and rusty
And I'm not talking about my car
Torn and tattered
Bruised
neon signs
And these bottles of wine
That make me feel blue
But nothing
Hurts me more
Then you
I wish I could just
Say fuck it, pack it up
Leave the town
my shoes
But I see I’m not the only one
Feelin’ the blues
Wall to wall, block by block
Every inch of my space run by the clock
My world is crashin’ in
The cadillac stood by the house
And the yanks they were within
And the tinker boys they hissed advice
'Hot-wire her with a pin'
Then we turned
by your clear blue eyes
Your a sailor man
Oh sailor man
From polar land
Oh sailor man
Come take my hand
Oh sailor man
Take me along
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