Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Empire State of Mind, artist - Hip Hop Nation. Date of issue: 24.09.2014
Song language: English
Empire State of Mind |
| Find Jay-z Concerts |
| near Jakarta |
| «Empire State Of Mind» |
| (feat. Alicia Keys) |
| Yeah |
| Yeah 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, yeah, they love me everywhere |
| I used to cop in Harlem, all of my Dominicanos |
| Right there up on Broadway, pull me back to that McDonald’s |
| Took it to my stash spot, 560 State St. |
| Catch me in the kitchen like the Simmons' whipping Pastry |
| 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 what up to TyTy, still sippin' Mai Tai’s |
| Sittin' courtside, Knicks & Nets give me high five |
| Nigga, I be spiked out, I could trip a referee |
| Tell by my attitude that I’m most definitely from… |
| 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 |
| The lights will inspire you |
| Let’s hear it for New York, New York, |
| New York |
| (You welcome OG—I made you hot, nigga!) |
| 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 fair, they act like they forgot how to add |
| 8 million stories, out there in the naked |
| City it’s a pity, half of y’all won’t make it |
| Me, I got a plug Special Ed «I Got It Made» |
| If Jeezy’s payin' LeBron, I’m payin' Dwyane Wade |
| Three dice Cee-lo, three Card Molly |
| 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 State that’s |
| (That boy good… welcome to the bright light, baby.) |
| Lights is blinding, girls need blinders |
| Or they could 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 |
| Anna Wintour gets cold, in Vogue with your skin out |
| City of sin, it’s a pity on a 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 |
| 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, yeah, yeah» (c'mon, c’mon) |
| I’m from… |