| This is that, Rikers Island, not slipping rap flows
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| For them box bitten bing monsters, sniffin' that blow
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| Block huggers know the style, triple that dough
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| Forty cal. |
| for them cock suckers, sit ‘em back slow
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| What y’all know about coke pies, give 'em that low
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| I’m Malcolm before the bow tie, the simple cash flow
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| Rap NY, no lie, my side is Tabasco, so hot
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| Crooked cops are searching your asshole, it’s the drop
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| That freeze niggas right where they stand for the gwap
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| Niggas’ll play Pac and pop at they man, it don’t stop
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| We up top, but we locked and landing
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| He roadblock, he flow shots, get ghost and scram
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| Gingerbread niggas on the run from feds
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| Shit is sick, pretty chicks’ll put a gun to ya head
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| Never a vic', either think quick or end up dead
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| Cuz when we flip, what’s left to be said? |
| New York
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| New York, New York, New York
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| «New York, New York»
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| «Number One»
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| «New York, New York»
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| «Keep it real» «I get ill»
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| «New York, New York»
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| «Number one»
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| «New York, New York»
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| «The city» «I gotta get in»
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| You know the town stupid, this is all authentic ground
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| You can get poked, grabbed and choked, then shot up, for product
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| Bank holders stay in the lab, too many dumb niggas is scheming
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| You can get murked up in the cab
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| Shout out to niggas that be jerking tags, rollin' in Jags
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| Good boy leathers, hood boys’ll blast you
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| Niggas that carry ones and hit grass
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| And love hip hop, the shit that bring money outta ziplocs
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| Protect your dome, I’m warning you, what harm I do to the kid
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| I have you on the floor with ya armor loose
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| Break the raw down and sign truces
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| Then switch the next muthafuckin' date, fuck all excuses
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| When you see me it’s real, I’m just a natural born hustler
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| The castle where they wrap you in plastic, duke
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| So every soldier that’s armed, remind your general
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| It’s critical, you might stay a night, if you presentable
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| Yo, we was raised in the dead arm district
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| Before guns was called biscuits, Stapleton was on that hood shit
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| Live from the New York borough, keeping it thorough
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| Bunch of snakes in the grass, stay creepin' like squirrels
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| Cuz a snitch gon' crack that nut, don’t give a fuck
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| Did ten hours long and try to wrap us up
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| He dry snitching, post up in the whip with a fly wisdom
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| Hopped out to get a dutch, but he left with his wig splitten
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| We from New York, my city never sleeps (No)
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| We runnin' with a hundred heats
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| When beef pop off, we ain’t the one to speak
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| Dressed in all black, driving sixteen hearses
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| With sixteen niggas, dropping sixteen verses
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| Big faces, bolgin' outta big green purses
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| Stuck ya man for his vegi’s and his lame ass circus
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| So I dare niggas act up, y’all niggas act up
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| Now like cars in reverse, y’all better back up |