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Lyrics » Letter : L » Artist : Lloyd Banks » NY NY Lyrics

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NY NY by Lloyd Banksالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

NY NY by Lloyd Banks

     

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Don't talk tough talker unless you walk the walk
We grimy, we dirty in New York, New York
Blood spill around here and don't care about court
You take a pack and bring it back, don't come up short

'Cause any day can be your day, so don't play
Yay got the yay, Fame got the **, okay
You scared, get the f*** out the way
And pray, them G-Unit boys don't play

Nah, I can't play sacs or pull a rabbit out a hat
But I can c*** back and blow your blather out your back
Take that, I'll show you n****z how to rap
I'm c****, that's snowy white p***** on the track

I told 50 I was going to take it to the top
Get close and get pop like hot bacon out the pot
And my goons are loony and strip you naked on the spot
Ain't nobody scared in south, Jamaica but the cops

And speaking' 'bout cops, you n****z better stop quelling
And if I get knocked, I'll make bread on your head by the million
Crawl up the ladder tattle tattle be in the building

Don't talk tough talker unless you walk the walk
We grimy, we dirty in New York, New York
Blood spill around here and don't care about court
You take a pack and bring it back, don't come up short

'Cause any day can be your day, so don't play
Yay got the yay, Fame got the **, okay
You scared, get the f*** out the way
And pray, them G-Unit boys don't play

I roll up 'cause it's a hold up, ain't nothing funny
Stop smiling, it be the reason the crowd piling
Don't complain and die over a chain
Bang, bang, gang green neighborhood game

You know me I'm slipper as them baggy sweets
I throw a b**** out the crib like Jazzy Jeff
All the hate is sidelining and they mad he next
'Cause I got the bunny's with them fatties, yes

My ride thumping, talking s***, stunting
It will be repeated thumping if my finger push the button
Just for bluffing, hit for nothing
You can bust him, it don't matter the vehicle's custom

Don't talk tough talker unless you walk the walk
We grimy, we dirty in New York, New York
Blood spill around here and don't care about court
You take a pack and bring it back, don't come up short

'Cause any day can be your day, so don't play
Yay got the yay, Fame got the **, okay
You scared, get the f*** out the way
And pray, them G-Unit boys don't play

I'm from New York, New York n****z die for the cheese
I air your house out like a can of Fabreeze, at ease
Ease up soldier, I pull up in the rover
Click clack, ya whole life over

Baking soda and your work they go' buy it, nope
'Cause them fiends getting tired of that dying coke
I'm back baby, mad hype like a c**** baby
Ask Slim Shady, my g** game crazy

Don't talk tough talker unless you walk the walk
We grimy, we dirty in New York, New York
Blood spill around here and don't care about court
You take a pack and bring it back, don't come up short

'Cause any day can be your day, so don't play
Yay got the yay, Fame got the **, okay
You scared, get the f*** out the way
And pray, them G-Unit boys don't play

Writer : STEVEN L. KING, LUIS EDGARDO RESTO, MARSHALL B III MATHERS, CHRISTOPHER CHARLES LLOYD, MARVIN BERNARD
Copyright : Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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