Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Empire State of Mind, artist - Glee Club. Album song The Best of Glee, Vol. 2 (A Tribute to the TV Show's Greatest Hits), in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 14.08.2015
Record label: The Repro Crew
Song language: English
Empire State of Mind |
Yea, yea I’m out that Brooklyn, now I’m down in Tribeca |
Right next to DeNiro, but I’ll be hood forever |
I’m the new Sinatra, and, since I made it here |
I can make it anywhere, yea, they love me everywhere I used to cop in Harlem |
All of my Dominicano’s right there up on Broadway |
Pull me back to that McDonald’s, took it to my stashbox, 560 State St |
Catch me in the kitchen like a Simmons wippin' pastry’s |
Cruisin' down 8th St., off white Lexus |
Drivin' so slow, but BK is from Texas |
Me, I’m out that Bed-Stuy, home of that boy Biggie |
Now I live on Billboard and I brought my boys with me |
Say whattup to Ty-Ty, still sippin' Mai Tai’s |
Sittin' courtside, Knicks and Nets give me high five |
Nigga I be Spike’d out, I could trip a referee |
Tell by my attitude that I’m most definitely from |
In New York |
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of |
There’s nothin' you can’t do |
Now you’re in New York |
These streets will make you feel brand new |
Big lights will inspire you |
Let’s hear it for New York, New York, New York |
Catch me at the X with OG at a Yankee game |
Shit, I made the Yankee hat more famous then a Yankee can |
You should know I bleed blue, but I ain’t a Crip though |
But I got a gang of niggas walkin' with my clique though |
Welcome to the melting pot, corners where we sellin' rock |
Afrika Bambataa shit, home of the hip-hop |
Yellow cab, gypsy cab, dollar cab, holla back |
For foreigners it ain’t for, they act like they forgot how to act |
Eight million stories, out there in it naked |
City is a pity, half of y’all won’t make it |
Me, I got a plug, Special Ed «I Got It Made» |
If Jesus payin' Lebron, I’m payin' Dwayne Wade |
Three dice cee-lo, three card monte |
Labor Day Parade, rest in peace Bob Marley |
Statue of Liberty, long live the World Trade |
Long live the King yo, I’m from the Empire St. that’s |
In New York |
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of |
There’s nothin' you can’t do |
Now you’re in New York |
These streets will make you feel brand new |
Big lights will inspire you |
Let’s hear it for New York, New York, New York |
Lights is blinding, girls need blinders |
So they can step out of bounds quick, the sidelines is |
Lined with casualties, who sip to life casually |
Then gradually become worse, don’t bite the apple, Eve |
Caught up in the in-crowd, now you’re in style |
End of the winter gets cold, en vogue, with your skin out |
City of sin, it’s a pity on the whim |
Good girls gone bad, the city’s filled with them |
Mommy took a bus trip, now she got her bust out |
Everybody ride her, just like a bus route |
Hail Mary to the city, you’re a virgin |
And Jesus can’t save you, life starts when the church end |
Came here for school, graduated to the high life |
Ball players, rap stars, addicted to the limelight |
MDMA got you feelin' like a champion |
The city never sleeps, better slip you an Ambien |
In New York |
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of |
There’s nothin' you can’t do |
Now you’re in New York |
These streets will make you feel brand new |
Big lights will inspire you |
Let’s hear it for New York, New York, New York |
One hand in the air for the big city |
Street lights, big dreams, all lookin' pretty |
No place in the world that could compare |
Put your lighters in the air everybody say yeah, yeah |
Yea, yea |
In New York |
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of |
There’s nothin' you can’t do |
Now you’re in New York |
These streets will make you feel brand new |
Big lights will inspire you |
Let’s hear it for New York, New York, New York |