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Текст песни KHM - New York

KHM - New York слова песни

[Intro: Kool Keith]Yo, you know what?You could go to all the states in the worldSee girls with long hair, flat stomachsGoin` back and forth to the gym, workin` outAnd they be talkin` to youYou get in New York... girls be frontin`They have a little bit of tiny hair on they headOr some just walk around with braidsYou can`t tell `em nuttin`Yo... they be killin` me[H-Bomb]Easy mon, blood clot, blood cleat with gold teethHe peekin` at Kool Keith, Marc Live, and meWe - fly LAX to JFK, take it one wayYou twisted, Jacky J ain`t plan to stayI`m on a one way, beamin` a poor chick in L.A.Play - these chickens, break rulesI pack steels, do big drug dealsYou in tennis shoes, where`s your heels?And you expect me to pay for these mealsWhere`s your spouse?You live with your moms, is that a mouseI`m breakin` out bounce, my man Ice-T got a penthouseFour deep hits, scores, V.I.P.We fingerbang chickens in lace, no space - fast raceBig Lonnie on Webster Ave with a screw face, briefcaseThree ki`s taste with a rusty screw driver and wasteYour right hand man got replacedYou chase - baby makers, parts, heart breakersWant papers - yes, them Murray gators huh?You`re man work in Manhattan up in Houlihan`s as a waiters, latersYou worship them slave owners on green papers, hatersI`m back in L.A. with three hoes in a Wilshire skyscrapers[Chorus] - X 2New York belongs to me!(Not him, or yooouuuu)New York belongs to me!(Not him, or yooouuuu)[Marc Live]I walk through your city like a juggernautYou kids is astronauts, all in spaceRight to your face, no welcome mats just welcome capsA community of big city kids in black hatsCatch me in a New York strip club slappin` a phat assYou don`t get no pass, it`s the big three - H, Marc, and KeithTop general chiefs, no games, forget the friends babyLet`s go straight to the brains, an even exchangeNo heated exchange, we show the hotel the after partyLot of Bacardi and Limon, heavy smoke and plenty of grindin`I left L.A. real quick to see who`s rhymin` - Who`s talkin` mess and who`s lyin`Who shippin` weight express mail, no Greyhound - we flyin`Forty-two street triple X, we buyin`Hot 97 nigga gon` play us some new shit, or we gon` start ridin`Me and Blaze up that spot, you know who we areHigh profile, we not buyin` the bar, real grimeyOne E & J, one Philly, and jake behind me... BX[Chorus] - X 1.5New York belongs to me!(Not him, or yooouuuu)New York belongs to me!(Not him, or yooouuuu)[Kool Keith]I`ma tell you New Yorkers on lock down, the city is my booYou shoulda called up Clue and made appointmentsI`m qualified in the Metropolitan areaI shoulda been on the professional tooNone of y`all rappers don`t have a ruleMarketing plan out there, y`all know what to doWhat up nizza?, with tight beats on destinctive tracks like the RZAOn four DAT`s, computer sequence my formatsI step on MC`s like subways, rest my feet on rats8,000 rappers comin` out this summer posin` hard, rhymin` like pussycatsY`all don`t shoot nobody, half of y`all like to scratch - Like kittens in a batch, most of y`all scared to light a matchBlow birthday candles, y`all dealin` with girls with love handlesBetter yet, guys still standin` in front of Fat Beats lookin` for samplesI laught at you holdin` champagne tryin` to walk in the club like Rambo[Chorus] - X 2New York belongs to me!(Not him, or yooouuuu)New York belongs to me!(Not him, or yooouuuu)

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