New York City ft. Shabaam Sahdeeq Lyrics

Yeah

I never feel more alive than when the streets light up

My ear to the concrete pulling all nighters

I smoke good eat good as a g should

Out late plus I'm up early I don't sleep good

Mind always conjuring ways to keep my fleet good

Deep cuz I'm from the bloodline of the priesthood

Since my younger days I was raised different

Quick temper but still enough chill to pay attention

My older siblings ain't take the time to listen

I learned from their mistakes both did a dime in prison

13 to be exact I give thanks for giving them another chance

We're all caught up in the system

Cutting them loose ends woke up my braids missing

I do it to the max maneuver the wave different

Shitting on these younger rappers but it ain't the age difference

Spar with the ogs too homie I'm made different

Yeah

NYC

New York New York New York

Uh Huh

If you can make it here you can make it anywhere

You know how the saying go

It's the city

Shabaam

What up

Smoking a Newport standing at port authority

Waiting for my chick to come in she move accordingly

Hand me the duffle we stop to cop the pretzel

There's nothing like my city the skyline is special

Waves under the do-rag sharp cut under the Yankee fitted

Million ways to get it the winter is crazy frigid

Yellow cabs don't want to stop for us cuz they lame

So we hopped on the train It ain't nothing but a thing

Headed to Bed-stuy after the Metro swipe

She clinging to my arm holding me real tight

NYC strap hanger driving don't make sense

During rush hour cuz all the traffic seem to be condensed

The mecca of Hip-Hop and crooked ass cops

On 5th Ave people from all over the world shop

And the hustle don't stop the summertime riding pretty

Living in the city that don't sleep it's New York City

New York New York New York

Uh huh

Yo

Still ride with my BX homies I go fool with

A couple QB niggas I'm still cool with

Chilling out in Harlem when I'm drinking on my cool shit

From the county of Kings but I got a QU chick

We in the middle of Brownsville bumping Jill Scott

Revolution ain't televised shout out to Gil Scott

And anybody who cried when Malcolm x died

88 89 I was passenger side

With the first nigga to cop the 850 of the time and drove it up to 55th

Around the same time the adventures of Slick Rick was knocking out niggas whips

He would get out and dance in the middle of Brooklyn bridge

New York New York pitchers on the mound still

Peddling the base getting trippy out of town still

Chilling on the east side yeah I come around still

You play me when they Gentrify Brownsville nigga

Aww Man