[Intro: Kool Keith]
Yo, you know what?
You could go to all the states in the world
See girls with long hair, flat stomachs
Goin` back and forth to the gym, workin` out
And they be talkin` to you
You get in New York... girls be frontin`
They have a little bit of tiny hair on they head
Or some just walk around with braids
You can`t tell `em nuttin`
Yo... they be killin` me
[H-Bomb]
Easy mon, blood clot, blood cleat with gold teeth
He peekin` at Kool Keith, Marc Live, and me
We - fly LAX to JFK, take it one way
You twisted, Jacky J ain`t plan to stay
I`m on a one way, beamin` a poor chick in L.A.
Play - these chickens, break rules
I pack steels, do big drug deals
You in tennis shoes, where`s your heels?
And you expect me to pay for these meals
Where`s your spouse?
You live with your moms, is that a mouse
I`m breakin` out bounce, my man Ice-T got a penthouse
Four deep hits, scores, V.I.P.
We fingerbang chickens in lace, no space - fast race
Big Lonnie on Webster Ave with a screw face, briefcase
Three ki`s taste with a rusty screw driver and waste
Your right hand man got replaced
You chase - baby makers, parts, heart breakers
Want papers - yes, them Murray gators huh?
You`re man work in Manhattan up in Houlihan`s as a waiters, laters
You worship them slave owners on green papers, haters
I`m back in L.A. with three hoes in a Wilshire skyscrapers
[Chorus] - X 2
New 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 juggernaut
You kids is astronauts, all in space
Right to your face, no welcome mats just welcome caps
A community of big city kids in black hats
Catch me in a New York strip club slappin` a phat ass
You don`t get no pass, it`s the big three - H, Marc, and Keith
Top general chiefs, no games, forget the friends baby
Let`s go straight to the brains, an even exchange
No heated exchange, we show the hotel the after party
Lot 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 are
High profile, we not buyin` the bar, real grimey
One E & J, one Philly, and jake behind me... BX
[Chorus] - X 1.5
New 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 boo
You shoulda called up Clue and made appointments
I`m qualified in the Metropolitan area
I shoulda been on the professional too
None of y`all rappers don`t have a rule
Marketing plan out there, y`all know what to do
What up nizza?, with tight beats on destinctive tracks like the RZA
On four DAT`s, computer sequence my formats
I step on MC`s like subways, rest my feet on rats
8,000 rappers comin` out this summer posin` hard, rhymin` like pussycats
Y`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 match
Blow birthday candles, y`all dealin` with girls with love handles
Better yet, guys still standin` in front of Fat Beats lookin` for samples
I laught at you holdin` champagne tryin` to walk in the club like Rambo
[Chorus] - X 2
New York belongs to me!
(Not him, or yooouuuu)
New York belongs to me!
(Not him, or yooouuuu)
