Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Worldwide, artist - Royal Flush. Album song Ghetto Millionaire, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 18.08.1997
Record label: Blunt
Song language: English
Worldwide |
Lettin niggas talk that New York New York shit |
What the fucks the deal? |
No doubt motherfucker, what the fucks the deal man |
Faggot ass niggas, niggas in New York be lettin niggas shit on em |
Frontin ass niggas |
First you drinkin snapple now you sippin' Moe? |
Just cause you livin', ain’t no reason for you to be shittin faggot |
Word… Go getcha guns |
Some nights I wake up out my sleep blastin |
Get some water for my aspirin |
My life fashion, gold chains guns and cash and |
I’m askin' do I got to be king of action |
Fuck a player fame New York is still the same |
A Queens thing |
Representin Flush reigns supreme |
Its a scheme just to overpower your team wit cream |
Man you sensitive, how you let these cats shit on your residence |
With fake robberies, who shot who wit no evidence |
Im bringin it, tired of niggas sittin back and seein it |
'Scape thru the light penetrate streets is trife |
Representin' from the lands of the guns and good smoke |
Heavy shines, poppin them lines and cut throats |
Don’t provoke and getcha team smoke for broke and no joke |
You just a boy, you not bad enough to compete, to challenge us |
I’m bustin' off the guns wit the silencers |
Word… New York New York big city of dreams |
Comin' from Queens, where we dont get caught up in between |
Wit the nonsense, all these pussy niggas actin sex |
Take it off your chest, bring it to the desert where I rest |
South east to west, busting straight slugs thru your vest |
Worldwide, worldwide, wherever people startin |
Keep your mind on Queens when the dog starts barkin |
Its time to dead your whole situation |
New York is full of murderers, guns and court cases |
Baggin' wit razors, Remy, no chaser |
That be that wasteland flavor |
It’s major, vibratin thru the states like a pager |
Who’s the one to blame |
When you get stuck for gold chains |
Shootin' close range, half of these niggas died in the game |
It’s a city thing, blastin' at cops by all means |
Keep it real thru out Queens |
Catchin jooks for CREAM |
On a tapped phone, fuckin wit niggas thats far from home |
G-S's chrome, makin' power moves like Capone |
Shits zone fuckin wit nigga Flush holds his own |
Guarnateed to blow, puffin on trees do I go |
Way low, kidnappin' children for dough thats how it go |
Based on criminal minds, traces are hard to find |
To commit crime, half of these niggas is droppin dimes |
Yet in time, blowin your block just like a mine |
Flush in design, keep my neck flooded with shine |
Im out to get it, you still somethin sweet |
Go get your heat and your peeps |
And find your body parts on the streets |