I gotta lot of love for all you spit, but im still from New York (New York)/
but i gotta empty out my clip, youve been around for too long (too long)/
so stop poppin off some shits, or imma show you whos wrong (whos wrong)
if you fuck with the West coast dick, then imma blow ya whole head off bitch (head off)
this is how we do....

This city had enough fear and ambitions/
now this bastard from the central thinks he the only thing spittin/
its sad to ban fans from watchin ya rep get slammed into a building so strong that even Superman would say Damn!/
gettin hand outs from countries who think this city is in shambles/
we talkin business organization with frustrations you cant handle/
the 3rd coast is the worst coast cause no one even knows its here/
i dont have to spell words right my perplexity is always clear/
down there you sellin cow shit, up here we selling trees/
you the only stupid asses that would told to please leave the spelling bee/
i aint tellin you to fuck with me, im ORDERING you to try/
ill start chalkin out ya outline. so you know where to lie/
and start barkin out my war cry so know when it is to die/
spark the bars eyes from crying so bright you goin blind/
it aint mine or New Yorks fault that you love to shove ya siblings/
the norths been puttin out music while the souths still rebuilding/
if mexico can attack you, then why cant New York do the same/all i gotta do is send Lloyd Banks and 50 Cent to snatch ya chain/
the only thing you poppin off in the south is ya lips/
slippin out quick quiffs and get hit from 6 clips, im the master of quick wits, you the master of suckin ya sistas dick/im the prick from the city with the voice like a lion/
your posts may stack up, but no loser wins from tryin...

I gotta lot of love for all you spit, but im still from New York (New York)/
but i gotta empty out my clip, youve been around for too long (too long)/
so stop poppin off some shits, or imma show you whos wrong (whos wrong)
if you fuck with the West coast dick, then imma blow ya whole head off bitch (head off)
this is how we do....

why do i try to send lines so sly you cant find my rhymes fast enough to reply, so dont try/
its sad to see a country boy so far from his home/
who do you think would shoot first if i walked up to you all alone/
while you still tryin to figure out if my sisters got dibs on me/im tryin to figure if you realize my pistols i got 6 homies/
you take 11 seconds to try to remember all i said/
ill take 7 seconds to ponder on where to put it in your head/
you beat the guinie with the keyboard, the guinie will be forced to do it too/
but instead of leavin this bitch with key sores, ill let the semi run'm through/
New York, New York, the place where the greats are from/
all the way from %0, to Big Pun/
Texas, oh Texas, lets think of this places greats/
from Houston, to Austin, im thinkin of cities, not names/
oh thats right thats cause noone ever sparked from this lame- brain, half insane, train driven, ho-down livin, family given pain of a states shame/
so dont play with the D-train cause its destination is not a game!!
New York Mother Fucker