J. COLE

J. COLE - New York Times

rate me

(feat. 50 Cent & Bas)

[Intro:]

For all my niggas in the city

But is shit really for Queens, dwag?

Really for Queens, dwag?

You know?

Big city dreams, motivated by schemes?

Getting money regiment, with my getting money regime

You know what I mean!

New York times

Come listen to these New York rhymes

A southern nigga with a New York mind

In the concrete jungle of Queen trying to be kings.

Getting to the money of sins by any means

As I watch it all, pain out, trying not to stand out

Fish out of water, yet unofficial reporter

Up here life is a bitch, I blow a kiss at her daughter

In a city with nigga will leave you shit outta order.

So yeah, you heard the news, disturbing news

Shot a brother in the head, thank the Lord he ain’t dead

Was in a coma for months, eyes ain’t opened not once

My nigga visibly stressing in a mess he’s smoking is blunt

What could I say, I can’t relate to that, all I do is pray for that!

This is city god told me, “go and make it at!”

I got a date with destiny, I’m running late for that

Grab a paper, hey kid, you gotta pay for that!

Hook:

The New York Times, yeah

The New York Times

(Extra, extra, read all about it)

They say you can win anywhere

If you can win here

And you ain’t been no where if you ain’t been here

Ball so hard you aint really in the game, man

Same place, different face, on the train, man

New York, New York

Hop on the F train, took the express train

Skip that local shit, my vocal sick, that’s how success came

Once kings now we pawns in this chess game

Wall Street got black slave blood stains.

Which means, we built this city

And never got scraps while the devil got fat

In fact, reparation for niggas and desperation

Fuck money, get my kid a real education!

Blood money spills, had a real revelation

Southside make you realize there’s still segregation

Don’t wanna preach I’m just thinking out loud

Sometimes I wanna save the world and I be thinking bout how

To lead my niggas to paradise

Imagine the world, free from pain

And we no longer scared the night

Far from the crime, the blind leading the blind

We gonna make it primetime till we dying!

Hook:

The New York Times, yeah

The New York Times

(Extra, extra, read all about it)

They say you can win anywhere

If you can win here

And you ain’t been no where if you ain’t been here

Ball so hard you aint really in the game, man

Same place, different face, on the train, man

New York, New York

How I go from selling… and plates

Till eating steaks with Cole and playing FIFA with Drake

Should’ve been in the States, property of the Jakes

Now I’m plotting on profits and properties on the lake

Let me properly immigrate you to it

Show you how the heads of states and gangsters do it

Them niggas talk a lot of shit but they ain’t been through it

I done been up in everything, cars you never seen

City’s you never heard of, from the streets where they murder

Police observe us till they reach the verdict

Kill ‘em all, fucking kill ‘em all

If you can’t send ‘em till the pen, send ‘em to the morgue

Send ‘em to the Lord, fuck it, send his broad!

Hundred shots through the dark but they never hit my heart, nigga

Bitch nigga, take a pause

Hundred shots through the dark you can never hit my heart

Hook:

The New York Times, yeah

The New York Times

(Extra, extra, read all about it)

They say you can win anywhere

If you can win here

And you ain’t been no where if you ain’t been here

Ball so hard you aint really in the game, man

Same place, different face, on the train, man

New York, New York

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