Nyc Lyrics

Nyc lyrics

f/ Jinx Da Juvy, Kool G. Rap







Chorus (Kool G. Rap)







N.Y. City, crime around me, drug dynasties



death and robberies 



on the dark blocks where bodies bleed



jake inside the P.J.'s, the heat waves



kids play where heat sprays



straight floods, no love, fake thugs



draw blood with Four-Four snubs



tear away your rug



kids with clout 



up in the Range Rover with chicks, spray in their mouth



drain 'em out, set up for the wet up, bang 'em out



these streets in Queens remain the murder scene, blood stain 'em out



(repeat)







Verse 1: (Kool G. Rap)







Inside the chambers of Hell



where all the L puffin' niggas dwell



and fell 'cause of a loss of blood cells



bullet shells, glass is shattered



shit gets torn and tattered



niggas brains is splattered on sewage drains when they be goin' at it



static over addicts, revolvers and automatics 



it's illmatic how I seen one catch two in the cabbage



from an initial, official shiny nickel played pistols



sparklin' like crystals, launchin' missiles



domes get blown like whistles



ain't no jokin', niggas will leave you and your Momma soakin'



and smokin' and blown open



bodies found in Hoboken



kids comittin' murder after murder



shit is real so I feel for the ones that don't pack steel and burners



bodies be droppin' down around Queens 



by different teams, it's the Teens that tear your ass out the frame by



the seams



the end of the drama center, niggas you want drama?



word to Momma come equipped with two clips and body armor. 







Chorus 







Verse 2: (Jinx Da Juvy)







Yeah, it's that young fella, Jinx Da Juvy



fly lil' nigga, iced out with a fresh brand new Coogi



jigged out, wig spinned out with waves



pockets full of the Franklins, I stay gettin' paid



stay stackin' papes, plus my Fam flip cakes



while some of us rap, other fellas flip 'caine



rock big chains, what ya'll think this a game?



Murder incorp. slash open cases with cartels



we do things that make the Mob tell



the way we go outta state and flip more cakes then Carvel



ya'll play the cut, and watch this lil' nigga prevail



'cause I spit much hotter than Hell



so why ya'll playa hate and plot to creep on mine



I pay ya'll no mind, but violate and speak to the Nine



I'm a B.K. Son of a gun 



when I spit 16 bars ya'll rap niggas dial 911



I'm only 14, and ya'll rap dudes ready to run



this ain't a game, ain't no time for fun



I'm the young rap Lord, so I gotta hold it down



it's Easy Mo Bee, G. Rap and Jinx Da Juvenile. 







Verse 3: (Kool G. Rap)







Crushed with the ice, get rushed for your life



busted in twice, stuck with a knife



on these rough nights we hustle and heist



put heaters to your Man and double the price



snuffin' your lights, shake you like a couple of dice



nothin' is nice, prepare for combat



firearm cats with long gats, end up where you get embalmed at



lay on the floor flat, pull the gat format



direct beside your door mat 



cock the Fours back, blow out your Whore's back



leave the kids wigs tore back



my niggas ride with me like horseback



go to war rats, niggas you strapped? let me take that 



G. Rap face slap all of these fake cats



and unofficials, get gun missiles clapped in your lung tissue



me and my Dun's'll hit you, slugs not even one'll miss you



tons of pistols 



kid, you got guns?, you should've brung 'em wit' you



them niggas runnin' wit' you



caught 'em and hung 'em wit' you



no games, out to blow frames with Fo' flames



at close range, have all you niggas lookin' for Rogaine. 







Chorus 2x