Luyện nghe bài hát All The Critics In New York

Goddamn! New City!
and everything!

Back in the day, we used to respect y'all,
We used to be with y'all, niggas
All you have for the West is criticism and disrespect
So I say to you and city
Y'all niggas will never get our respect

West nigga! Keepin' it real
Keepin' it

Is Brooklyn in the house? about Queens in the house?
Manhattan in the house? Island in the house?
Is the Bronx in the house? Staten Island in the
The West Coast is in the house sayin', "Why you loud?
you talkin' about?"

Fuck all the in the N.Y.C.
Who wants to rock the microphone me?
of who you are and who you be
My energy holds it like the NFC
I'm going thorough thorough your
Wit my Raider and my jerry curl
Gangstas rule the world on the nevertheless W/S
We got the bomb and you got the stress

You couldn't have it no better, homeboy
With my automatic toy, I kill and
bust ass critics from the N.Y.C.
Don't they that I'lI be from the ING?
My play for keeps deep crews
Pay dues by murder and twos
Rip and Damus choose
To gangsta, you never ever ran us
We bustin' clips bananas, spottin' colored bandanas

It's the hoodsta cap peela
Dusty ass New critic killa
and pumpin' the mothafuckin'
Led in their chest ain't
None of them niggas have it up for the West
So now it's on and the gauge in my pants got me
unity while I'm coast tripping
Sagging as a Bell East tape recorders
This is 187 on a New reporter

New York, New
New York, New
New York, New
New York, New

Fuck all the in the N.Y.C.
Tryin' to get a East hip-hop
But I've been gangsta shit since '83
When y'all was still scared to use
Now everybody wanna run and go and get
And blaim it on these West Coast 7 figure
Just because we it real, niggas got the deal
I blood ain't got the spill, I kill

It's like the battle of the sexes, you wanna us like bitches
Because we're platinum we flex this
mic in hand, fans in the stands
We make a mill yan from California to Japan,

Went overseas, seen D's how we it
88's to 100's to let me who really run it
This Coast gangsta shit got it crackin' or we jackin'
Packin' ninas and sellin' out arenas,

You me wanta holla, throw up both my Dubs
And roll these niggas up, I beat 'em
When I see 'em 'em, cut off his scrotum
Leave 'em in particles, for them bias all articles
I'm mashin' and so get the casket
I bet you this I get a fuckin' hip hop classic
I'm you niggas from the scene
Kicking newstands pourin' gasoline on your magazines

To the West, my niggas, to the
To the West, my niggas, to the
To the West, my niggas, to the
We the best, my niggas, don't

all the critics in the N.Y.C.
And your articles tryin' to my LP
Fuck backpacks and your wack ass raps
Sayin' we ain't real because we snaps
Selling 6-4 a dab, what you lookin' at
your Brooklyn hat and your pen and pad
Nigga, I got a pocket full of green at the seams
Fuck your baggy jeans, fuck magazines

Hey, hey, hey, what's round Trey
It's still MT critic K on mines all day
It'a trip, the script from when you niggas was bossing
Got to flossin', fell off and got the nail in the
Who wanna regret with my set
I be a 24 year street side Connect Vet
You niggas watch how you greet us when you meet us
We packin' heaters and the way you beat us is cheat us

Ay no, nigga, fuck shit, I've got to kill it, kill it
Fuck a New York critic, he about it
I live it, did it plus I'm with it putting it down
On all these DJ's fakin'
And faking never once played my on their radio station
No love for a New York critic or Disc
Matter of fact, I'm all y'all for fuckin' up hip hop

Is Brooklyn in the house? What Queens in the house?
Manhattan in the house? Island in the house?
Is the Bronx in the house? Island in the house?

The West is in the house sayin'
"Why you talkin'
you talkin' about?
Why you loud?"
you talkin' about?

What you about?
Why you talkin'

you talkin' about?
Why you loud?

What you talkin'
Why you loud?
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