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All The Critics In New York

Goddamn! New York City!

Skyscrapers and everything!

Back in the day, we used to respect y'all, niggas

We used to be down with y'all, niggas

All you have for the West Coast is criticism and disrespect

So I say to you and your city

Y'all niggas will never get our respect again

West Side nigga! Keepin' it real

Keepin' it real

Is Brooklyn in the house? What about Queens in the house?

Manhattan in the house? Long Island in the house?

Is the Bronx in the house? Staten Island in the house?

The West Coast is in the house sayin', "Why you talkin' loud?

What you talkin' about?"

Fuck all the critics in the N.Y.C.

Who wants to rock the microphone after me?

Think of who you are and who you be

My energy holds it down like the NFC

I'm going thorough thorough your borough

Wit my Raider jacket and my jerry curl

Gangstas rule the world on the west nevertheless W/S

We got the bomb and you niggas got the stress

You couldn't have said it no better, homeboy

With my automatic toy, I kill and destroy

These bust ass critics from the N.Y.C.

Don't they know that I'lI be from the ING?

My peeps play for keeps deep crews

Pay dues by murder ones and twos

Rip riders and Damus choose

To stay gangsta, you never ever ran us

We bustin' clips like bananas, spottin' colored bandanas

It's just the hoodsta cap peela

Dusty ass New York critic killa

Dumpin' and pumpin' the mothafuckin'

Led in their chest 'cause ain't

None of them niggas ever have it up for the West

So now it's on and the gauge in my pants got me limping

Fuck unity while I'm coast tripping

Sagging as a Bell East smashing tape recorders

This is 187 on a New York reporter

New York, New York

New York, New York

New York, New York

New York, New York

Fuck all the critics in the N.Y.C.

Tryin' to get a East hip-hop monopoly

But I've been writin' gangsta shit since '83

When y'all was still scared to use profanity

Now everybody wanna run and go and get triggers

And blaim it on these West Coast 7 figure niggas

Just because we made it real, niggas got the deal

I hope blood ain't got the spill, I kill

It's like the battle of the sexes, you wanna treat us like bitches

Because we're platinum when we flex this

With mic in hand, fans in the stands

We make a mill yan from California to Japan, bitch

Went overseas, seen D's how we done it

88's to 100's to let me know who really run it

This West Coast gangsta shit got it crackin' or we jackin'

Packin' ninas and sellin' out arenas, niggas

You make me wanta holla, throw up both my Dubs

And roll these niggas up, I gotta beat 'em

When I see 'em T-roll 'em, cut off his scrotum

Leave 'em bleeding in particles, for them bias all articles

I'm mashin' and blastin' so get the casket

I bet you after this I get a fuckin' hip hop classic

I'm bannin' you niggas from the scene

Kicking over newstands pourin' gasoline on your magazines

To the West, my niggas, to the West

To the West, my niggas, to the West

To the West, my niggas, to the West

We the best, my niggas, don't stress

Fuck all the critics in the N.Y.C.

And your articles tryin' to rate my LP

Fuck your backpacks and your wack ass raps

Sayin' we ain't real because we make snaps

Selling 6-4 with a dab, what you lookin' at

With your Brooklyn hat and your pen and pad

Nigga, I got a pocket full of green bustin' at the seams

Fuck your baggy jeans, fuck your magazines

Hey, hey, hey, what's happenin' round Trey

It's still MT critic K on mines all mothafuckin' day

It'a trip, the script flipped from when you niggas was bossing

Got to flossin', fell off and got the nail in the coffin

Who wanna regret fuckin' with my set

I be a 24 year street West side Connect Vet

You niggas better watch how you greet us when you meet us

We packin' heaters and the only way you beat us is cheat us

Ay no, nigga, fuck that shit, I've got to kill it, kill it

Fuck a New York critic, he write about it

I live it, did it plus I'm still with it putting it down

On all these DJ's hatin' fakin'

And faking never once played my record on their radio station

No love for a New York critic or Disc Jock

Matter of fact, I'm blaming all y'all for fuckin' up hip hop

Is Brooklyn in the house? What about Queens in the house?

Manhattan in the house? Long Island in the house?

Is the Bronx in the house? Staten Island in the house?

The West Coast is in the house sayin'

"Why you talkin' loud?

What you talkin' about?

Why you talkin' loud?"

What you talkin' about?

What you talkin' about?

Why you talkin' loud?

What you talkin' about?

Why you talkin' loud?

What you talkin' about?

Why you talkin' loud?

...

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