| Lettin niggas talk that New York New York shit
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| What the fucks the deal?
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| No doubt motherfucker, what the fucks the deal man
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| Faggot ass niggas, niggas in New York be lettin niggas shit on em
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| Frontin ass niggas
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| First you drinkin snapple now you sippin' Moe?
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| Just cause you livin', ain’t no reason for you to be shittin faggot
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| Word… Go getcha guns
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| Some nights I wake up out my sleep blastin
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| Get some water for my aspirin
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| My life fashion, gold chains guns and cash and
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| I’m askin' do I got to be king of action
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| Fuck a player fame New York is still the same
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| A Queens thing
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| Representin Flush reigns supreme
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| Its a scheme just to overpower your team wit cream
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| Man you sensitive, how you let these cats shit on your residence
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| With fake robberies, who shot who wit no evidence
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| Im bringin it, tired of niggas sittin back and seein it
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| 'Scape thru the light penetrate streets is trife
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| Representin' from the lands of the guns and good smoke
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| Heavy shines, poppin them lines and cut throats
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| Don’t provoke and getcha team smoke for broke and no joke
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| You just a boy, you not bad enough to compete, to challenge us
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| I’m bustin' off the guns wit the silencers
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| Word… New York New York big city of dreams
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| Comin' from Queens, where we dont get caught up in between
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| Wit the nonsense, all these pussy niggas actin sex
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| Take it off your chest, bring it to the desert where I rest
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| South east to west, busting straight slugs thru your vest
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| Worldwide, worldwide, wherever people startin
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| Keep your mind on Queens when the dog starts barkin
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| Its time to dead your whole situation
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| New York is full of murderers, guns and court cases
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| Baggin' wit razors, Remy, no chaser
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| That be that wasteland flavor
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| It’s major, vibratin thru the states like a pager
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| Who’s the one to blame
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| When you get stuck for gold chains
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| Shootin' close range, half of these niggas died in the game
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| It’s a city thing, blastin' at cops by all means
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| Keep it real thru out Queens
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| Catchin jooks for CREAM
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| On a tapped phone, fuckin wit niggas thats far from home
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| G-S's chrome, makin' power moves like Capone
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| Shits zone fuckin wit nigga Flush holds his own
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| Guarnateed to blow, puffin on trees do I go
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| Way low, kidnappin' children for dough thats how it go
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| Based on criminal minds, traces are hard to find
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| To commit crime, half of these niggas is droppin dimes
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| Yet in time, blowin your block just like a mine
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| Flush in design, keep my neck flooded with shine
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| Im out to get it, you still somethin sweet
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| Go get your heat and your peeps
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| And find your body parts on the streets |