Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Yo What's Good New York, artist - Heems. Date of issue: 16.01.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Yo What's Good New York |
| Like a crow, Russell |
| Go Russell, it’s your birthday |
| I’m a bastard like Jon Snow |
| So I rocked the fur shoulder joint |
| While I cry about it |
| I’m supplied swords by hooded men |
| Goonish den where I lay at |
| Vajayjay they parade for me like I was Pat Sajak |
| Yaya baybay, how you living? |
| Me, I got a chip in my brain |
| And three titties to boot |
| So whatcha thinking? |
| Probably 'bout sex with me |
| Probably the next to be |
| Fucking with the three sea shells |
| Me I’m from the future |
| Watch how I maneuver |
| Brazilian, Xuxa |
| A million, Rugers |
| A thousand, island, dressing |
| I’m undressing and dismembering you |
| In my eyes and hive mind and brain |
| '95 kane’s car from light blue |
| Crystal, cleanest shit |
| Sharp as a thistle |
| Flyer than a regular piece of paper |
| Salmon with the mayo and the capers |
| Me I’m getting paper |
| Split hooves like a satyr |
| Living large boobs major |
| Sexy silly baby with the porcelain crown |
| Man down, man down |
| Momma, MOMA, Natural History Museum |
| Where I find my boney brethren |
| You can get in if you’re sexed in |
| See me sexting, creepy sex pin |
| Peep the deepest bluest |
| My hat is like a dick, bitch |
| I got the drugs by the part between the nuts and the asshole |
| Tom Selleck on the facial |
| Schwarzenegger figure from the '80s |
| Pasta tossed with basil |
| Sprinkle me with cheese |
| Got the hookup on the cable |
| Glass tables, feets up by the patio |
| She got the pussy from the sea |
| Diver Scallop rap got the bitches in the back |
| Blowing sack |
| Overaged just one or two years |
| Fuck me for New Year’s (Yeah) |
| I’m like The One Man Gang |
| Accompanied by Slick |
| Your company wasn’t fucking with me |
| Now you’re comfortably tugging on my dick |
| Hunger for a hit |
| Do a tumble and a flip, bitch |
| Shouts Queens, shouts my sister Shivani |
| Good bye solo, chop shop, man push cart |
| Ramin Bahrani, the ladies they Rani |
| Beauty who cop jewelry and Maharani- |
| Jewelers on Union Turnpike |
| Shouts to Dap’s mom, that’s Huma |
| Shouts to wrestlers, Yokozuna |
| Shouts to Tiger Ali Singh with bling on |
| Speaking Klingon |
| Kiss the ring on, my fingers, is what I’ve been on |
| Concurrent, young sleepy call me Venom |
| Flow is sharp, throwing darts |
| Dropping cats, Owen Hart |
| Florida grocery |
| Shoutout to Floetry |
| Shoutout to Bushra Rehman’s poetry |
| Shouts to Mohammad |
| We used to burn in the back of the Beamer |
| Third world fam |
| He was the first of the cats that called me Heema |
| Not for FEMA, schemer |
| For Abner Louima, dreamer |
| You ain’t on what Heems on (Uh!) |
| Walk with me, my shirts is lilac |
| My skin is brown |
| I’m blue so I rap |
| I cough til my capillaries burst |
| And I’m carried in a hearst |
| You’re carrying a purse |
| I’m valiant with words |
| Carrying the herb |
| Marrying the verbs |
| You all merry and you herbs |
| (Yeah!) |