| Goddamn! |
| New York City!
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| Skyscrapers and everything!
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| Back in the day, we used to respect y’all niggas
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| We used to be down with y’all niggas
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| All you have for the West Coast, is criticism and disrespect
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| So I say to you and your city
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| Y’all niggas will never get our respect again
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| Westside nigga (Keeping it real)
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| Yeah! |
| (Keeping it real)
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| WESTSIIIIIDE!
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| Is Brooklyn in the house?!? |
| (Check it out)
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| What about Queens in the house?!? |
| (INGLEWOOOOD!!!)
|
| Manhattan in the house?!? |
| (South Central)
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| Long Island in the house?!? |
| (Check it out)
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| Is the Bronx in the house?!? |
| (Waddup)
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| Staten Island in the house?!? |
| (Woop woop)
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| The West Coast is in the house sayin
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| Why you talkin loud?!?
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| What you talkin bout?!?
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| Fuck all the critics in the N-Y-C
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| Who wants to rock the microphone after me?
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| Think of who you are and who you be
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| My energy holds it down like the NFC
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| I’m going thorough thru your borough
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| Wit my Raider jacket and my jheri curl, gangstas rule the world
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| On the west, nevertheless, W-S
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| We got the bomb and you niggas got the stress
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| You couldn’t have said it no better homeboy
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| With my automatic toy, I kill and destroy
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| These buster ass critics from the N-Y-C
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| Don’t they know that I be from the I-N-G
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| My peeps play for keeps, deep crews pay dues
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| By murder ones and twos, rip riders and Damus
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| Choose to stay gangsta, you never ever ran us
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| We bustin clips like bananas, sportin colored bandanas
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| [WC}
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| It’s the Mister hoodsta, cap peeler
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| Dusty ass New York critic killer
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| Dumping and pumping the motherfuckin lead in their chest
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| Because ain’t none of them niggas ever gave it up for the West
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| So now it’s on and, the gauge in my pants got me limpin
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| Fuck U-N-I-T-Y, I’m coast trippin
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| Saggin as a Pelle, smashin tape recorders
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| This is 187 on a New York reporter
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| «New York, New York»
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| «New York, New York»
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| «New York, New York»
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| «New York, New York»
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| Fuck all the critics in the N-Y-C
|
| Tryin to get an East hip-hop monopoly
|
| But I’ve been writing gangsta shit since '83
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| When y’all was still scared to use profanity
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| Now everybody wanna run and go and get triggers
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| And blame it on these West Coast seven-figure niggas
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| Just because we made it real niggas got to deal
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| I hope blood ain’t got to spill, I kill
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| It’s like the battle of the sexes
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| You wanna treat us like bitches cos we’re platinum when we flex this
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| With mic in hand, fans in the stands
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| We make a mill-ion from California to Japan, bitch
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| Went overseas, seen D’s how we done it
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| 88's to 100's to let me know who really run it
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| This West Coast gangsta shit got it crackin, or we jackin
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| Packin nina’s and sellin out arenas, niggas
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| You make me wanna holler, throw up both my Dubs
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| And roll these niggas up, I got to beat em
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| When I see me, T-Roller cut off his scrotum
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| Leave em bleedin in particles for them biases articles
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| I’m mashin and blastin so get the casket
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| I bet you after this I get a fuckin hip-hop classic
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| I’m banning you niggas from the scene
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| Kickin over newstands, pouring gasoline on your magazines
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| To the West my niggas, to the West
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| To the West my niggas, to the West
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| To the West my niggas, to the West
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| We the best my niggas don’t stress
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| Fuck all the critics in the N-Y-C
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| And your articles tryin to rate my LP
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| Fuck your backpacks and your wack ass raps
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| Sayin we ain’t real because we make snaps
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| Sellin six-fos to the Japs, what you lookin at?
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| With your Brooklyn hat and your pen and pad, nigga
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| I got a pocket full of green busting at the seams
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| Fuck your baggy jeans, fuck your magazines
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| Hey hey hey, what’s happenin round tre?
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| It’s still N-Y critic K on mines all motherfuckin day
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| It’s a trip the script flipped from when you niggas was bossin
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| Got to flossin, fell off, and got the nail in the coffin
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| Who wanna regret, fuckin with my set
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| I be a 24-year street Westside Connect vet
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| You niggas better watch how you greet us when you meet us
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| We packin heaters and the only way you beat us is cheat us
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| AIIIIYO!!! |
| Nigga fuck that shit
|
| I gotta, kill it kill it, fuck a New York critic
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| He write about how I lived it, did it, plus I’m still with it
|
| Puttin it down on all these DJs, hate, fakin and flakin
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| Never once played my record on their radio station
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| No love for a New York critic or disc jock
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| Matter of fact I’m blamin all y’all for fuckin up hip-hop
|
| Is Brooklyn in the house?!? |
| (Check it out)
|
| What about Queens in the house?!? |
| (WESTSIIIIIIIDE!!!)
|
| Manhattan in the house?!? |
| (And it don’t stop)
|
| Long Island in the house?!? |
| (YEAH! YEAH! Check it out)
|
| Is the Bronx in the house?!?
|
| Staten Island in the house?!? |
| (Say what say what??)
|
| The West Coast is in the house sayin (Yeah)
|
| Why you talkin loud?!?
|
| What you talkin bout?!?
|
| Why talkin loud?!? |
| Yeah, take it how you wanna take it, punk
|
| What you talkin bout?!? |
| We’re gonna make it how
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| WESTSIDE NIGGA!!! |
| What y’all niggas talkin about?
|
| Y’all ain’t acquantin and barkin on hip-hop
|
| This Westside Connection
|
| WESTSIIIIDE!!! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song All The Critics In New York , by - Westside Connection. Song from the album The Best of Westside Connection, in the genre Поп