Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song New York New York, artist - DJ Quick. Album song Mixtape West Coast, Vol. 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.09.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DJ Quick
Song language: English
New York New York |
Turn your speakers up money! |
Yo God! |
(Yo God?) |
Yo I got mad skills |
Isn’t that money? |
New York 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 law, and I’m from the Dogg Pound |
It’s the incredible, the lyrical |
You can’t be me like Niecey, to see me is gonna take a miracle |
I’m driving motherfuckers hysterical, with a |
Touch of this twister, stylistic mixture |
What I create pulsates, there is no escape |
Annihilate your mental mindstate |
Dre labels my vocabulary abusive |
I packs more knowledge than Confucius, I’m deadly |
Induce you like Medusa, with thoughts to shed |
And niggas throughout this hemisphere, far and near |
Prepare, catch me chillin' like the winter |
Up against the number one contender, as I enter |
Cause I gets heated like friction |
Motherfuck your whole jurisdiction, react this fact not fiction |
Telepathic addiction, to this homicidal recital |
Dangerous and vital to all my rivals |
Suicidal, brainwaves conveys |
Through the average motherfucker’s minds these days |
I’m all ready to put work in |
Take ten steps and turn to shoot the first nigga smirking |
Give a FUCK, what’s your name, what you claim |
Or why you came, motherfucker |
Don’t explain |
Simply, don’t tempt me, cause I’m simply |
Leavin hoes lives empty, the invincible MC |
New York 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 law, and I’m from the Dogg Pound |
Too much, I serve too many people, too much |
It’s too much, I serve too many people |
And when I finish servin ain’t gon be no sequel |
Gimme a couple G’s, for every MC, I knocked to his knees |
Verbally useless, oh you got the juice? |
I squeeze you juiceless |
The barbaric, versatile, you’re no kin to me |
So how the fuck you inherit my style? |
Now, out the clear blue sky, I can’t deny |
Not a day goes by, don’t get high, don’t ask why |
Tonight’s the night for me to rip microphones |
Into bits and pieces lyrical telekinesis |
Gets me into verbally vindictive |
Violent vocabulary bobs to existence |
Catch me in the pitch black path |
I sit and let the sick thought pass through my mental |
Till I hear an instrumental |
And detrimental verbals get to spittin |
The highest in intellect, try connectin with the written |
Now they faced with the forbidden, vocally chosen |
To explore new terrain, then remain unseen, throughout the war |
Dips like a low-low, with my verbal fo'-fo' |
The cocoa complexion MC with the slow flow |
Fo sho', I takes it to you from the do' |
Motherfucker, mentally I go hardco' (you know!) |
I disconnect ya, Kurupter, MC to vocally |
Void your whole molecular, structure |
Catastrophic, mystic as Mixelplix |
Hittin MC’s like pits the deadliest lyricist |
New York 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 law, and I’m from the Dogg Pound |
Too much, I serve too many people, too much |
It’s too much, I serve too many people |
And when I finish servin ain’t gon be no sequel |
We live… tonight I serve two thousand MC’s |
We live… cause can’t none fuck with the DPG’z |
We live (baby) because tonight I serve two thousand MC’s |
We live (baby) none can fuck with the DPG’z |
A-B-C-D-P-G-C, ba-by |
Ba-by… |
Eryday, I bust rhymes and recite |
In ways that make MC’s stop in daylight |
I’m the deadliest MC you wanna see on the streets |
Invincibility is what makes |
Me complete, compete |
Nah you can’t even fade me |
I fuck, you, your momma, your auntie, and your lady… |