FES TAYLOR - New York lyrics
rate me[Intro: Lon Dini (Fes Taylor)]Dini, baby, Two 4 War (The Milli is back)We about to blow, you faggot niggaz ain't ready, manKnow I mean? (Return of The Milli)Dini forever, man, L.I., Baby Pa, L.G.P.(You niggaz ain't ready) Get Fresh CrewLet's do it (You don't got a choice but to get ready)[Lon Dini]Yo, I flow through, anti-socialYou clown niggaz loco, I fuck bad bitches on every postalMove and you see it come through with new recruitsCuz I keep baggies and boots, and niggaz'll shootLike I said before I write it on spot, I'm going straight to the topLike the yae when it touches the potOnly the kid Dini can do this, smooth but I'm ruthlessViolators get chased down and beat toothlessTwo of the kicks sounding like the tank let offWe and Taylor hopped in the '07 shit and jet offGrandpa asleep, I'm in the room chopping gramsHow dare you faggot fucks ever try to bite the handof the man that feeds you, the man that leads youGuerilla warfare, motherfucker, we breed crewsBang on you faggot ass clownsAll you cowards scatter like fucking roaches when you hear that soundYea, huh...[Hook 2X: Fes Taylor]New York, New York[Pa Bazil]Yo, yo, check itThey say a measure of a man is measured by his accomplishmentsWhen you wack, fool, you get no acknowledgementJust gotta swallow it, back to the drawing boardWhen it gets too tough and we might write some songs for y'allHit it like Arthur with murderous waysWith the help of my niggaz we'll take over this placeJust like a moment of fate, it was written in the cardsLike the Sun was a line between the moon and the starsAnd by the way, my name is the PaI done fathered many styles on the Shao' so get ready for moreYou never know what he's holding in storeYou gotta guess it's uglyBeen through the line of fire so I bet the rest is nothingI figure less discussion, more action and destructionAt anyone who has the audac' to try and send me something[Fes Taylor]Myspace.com, we got spins like Flex dropped the bombModern day King Kong, alright, building in my palmTwin Tower of P, that's my my charmThis ain't back in the days, my beeper's goneYea, we on that Nextel chirp, I got workI promote like I got milk right in the dirtUh-huh, feel the worms and the snakes pass byMy cash buy, anything I want so I ain't gotta ask whyFast fry like french fries, cuz my cash priesUltimate hustler but I don't got Damon Dash tiesNow I arise from the dead, my niggaz lost lives and they bledBlow it through Mexico, hide it from the fedsYea, yea, Federallis, firearms, you never carrySee me crack a smile, not necessarily happyI growl at the beat, I'm just starting to barkThen I bite, step on ya toes, paw on ya Clark'sFerrari is parked, you shook when the lobby is darkThe beat gasoline, probably'll sparkFire, nigga, fire alarms, stop, look, admire the DonCars on cinder blocks, tires is goneFly as the Fonz, never went bronzeBut I'm trying to stunt gold sold this pair of LeBronsHow we do things, even my shoes blingWillie Rocks, tell 'em these ain't rhymes, those in a shoe stringThis my new thing, Taylor and Pa BazilDini, Lis, Gil put his cards on the tableWe dealing with a royal flushSo when you peasents in the presence of royalty, shut up and hush
