| Sitting on the subway they looking like «who is that?»
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| The boy gutter all hood New York sewer rat
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| You can never mace me, where Cuda at?
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| They love me out in Harlem like a ten dollar buddha sack
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| I spit that Ill Street Blues, yeah Kool G Rap
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| But my style is big, where the Coogis at?
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| I said my style is Big now light a L
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| As I skip to the next track on Supreme Clientele
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| Ghost to Manhattan, seat reclined in the Aston
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| Tom Ford glasses cause NY is into fashion
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| Madison. |
| Square. |
| Garden. |
| Feeling like Spike Lee’s squares, Jordans
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| You squares ain’t important
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| Fresh to death my gear’s in a coffin
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| Blowing that sour diesel I ain’t be here that often
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| Riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface
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| I’m just ridin on the A train, listenin to Ghostface
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| Riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface
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| I’m just riding on the A train, listening to Ghostface
|
| Pull up in that Derrick Rose hop out number nines or elevens
|
| You niggas is copycats, my style is patent leather
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| South side of the Chi nigga I ain’t packing never
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| I ain’t shy of the Chi, Jay Cutler in cold weather
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| And all I do is win, 72 and 10
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| Ball like Mike, Scottie, Dennis Rodman and them
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| 7−4 Chevelle, niggas riding in them
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| Killers from Cabrini-Green, I was riding with them
|
| Pelle jackets niggas out here robbing in them
|
| And even getting coat-jacked ain’t Common to him
|
| Keep thinking you Larry Hoover that line’ll have you shook
|
| That’s that Crack Music nigga forgot I was on the hook
|
| G.D.s, Vice Lords, Four Corner Hustlers
|
| Latin Kings, MCs, all em will fuck with us
|
| Blowing trees like the windy city
|
| Nigga I blow trees in the Windy City
|
| Riding on the L train, listening to Kanye
|
| I’m just riding on the L train, listening to Kanye
|
| I’m just riding in on the L train, listening to Kanye
|
| Said I’m riding on the L train, listening to Kanye
|
| I be in Lil Haiti
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| First forty eighty
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| Ain’t nothing bout to go down nigga my fam’s Zoe Pound
|
| And ever since they locked my nigga Zo down
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| Everything slow down, but my nigga Ross is on
|
| The homie Khaled put the Boss’s on
|
| We blowing orange like the Dolphins home
|
| And we don’t floss the chrome
|
| We turn that Wildcat offense on
|
| That New Era fly off ya dome
|
| I’m about to take my talents to South Beach
|
| I don’t even go to the games, but got Heat
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| Ain’t no Trickin Daddy, I take a bitch to get some Cuban food
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| Have a couple mojitos then fuck her like a Cuban do
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| Riding down Collins in the newest coup
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| Flo-Rida on the place, they think I’m Uncle Luke
|
| Nigga Tony Montana, who the fuck is you?
|
| I’m the all-red side of the Rubik’s Cube
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| Riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay
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| I’m just ridin in the fast lane, listening to Rozay
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| Riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay
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| I’m just riding in the fast lane, listening to Rozay |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Out of Towner , by - The Game. Song from the album The Blackwall Street, Vol. 7, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп