| In the city of dreams, you get caught up in the schemes
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| And fall apart in the seam
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| Tonight
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| That boy he used to bomb,
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| From B.K. |
| to the Bronx and it’s the fortunate one, who dies
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| New York, we ready!
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| He move from LAS to SoHo (hooo)
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| A few blocks for those who don’t know (ohh)
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| Down the hall punched a hole in the wall
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| Bounced out, all are in control
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| Certified son of a gun
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| Learns life lesson 101
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| Don’t fly too high on your own supply
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| Get burnt by the sun
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| Coz in the city of dreams
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| You get caught up in the schemes
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| And fall apart in the seam
|
| Tonight
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| That boy he is the bomb, from B.K. |
| to the Bronx
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| And it’s the fortunate one who dies
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| He was NY’s talk of the town
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| Heard out to the LI sound (okay)
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| He started datin models and he figured it out
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| He used to be a nice guy, then he cut that sh! |
| t out
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| Qualified sex machine
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| No better than a vowed fiend
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| She wanted a ride to the upper east side but he dropped her ass off in queens
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| Coz in the city of dreams
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| You get caught up in the schemes and fall apart in the seam
|
| Tonight
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| That boy would play his guitar like he was ready for war
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| (You ready, K?) (It's your man Nas here)
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| And then he’d lift up his voice to the
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| Sky (Take it straight through New York City)
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| Yo, ok, my city, my town, my crown
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| Michael Bloomberg, forget what you heard
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| I’m thought of highly, shoppin Louie, Gianni
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| Christian LaCrosse shades, what can a boss say?
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| City, bus, the subway, cab, the runway
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| Ski masks and gunplay my past at a young age
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| The illest city on the planet
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| Towers came down, Wall Street barely standin
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| We Crook Brothers, opposite of Brook Brothers
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| My footsteps of Scatman Crothers
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| It’s just generations of style to get five luminous minutes with me Interviews on how I flip sixty-twos
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| This isn’t my style, I spit what I’m livin right now
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| I’m out on the town, gold bars shuttin it down
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| Bottles stacked from the floor to the ceiling
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| Then it’s a loud fool, fifty-third street, right near the Hilton
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| I’m fightin the feeling I had when I was lightin up buildings
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| Now I’m writin for millions of listeners
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| Critics who just don’t get it They try dissin us, New York full of kings and queens, all the rest just mimic
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| us Coz in the city of dreams
|
| You get caught up in the schemes and fall apart in the seam
|
| Tonight
|
| That boy would play his guitar like he was ready for war
|
| And then he’d lift up his voice to the
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| Sky |