Luyện nghe bài hát All The Critics In New York

Goddamn! New City!
and everything!

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

West nigga! Keepin' it real
it real

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

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

You couldn't said it no better, homeboy
With my automatic toy, I kill and
These bust ass critics the N.Y.C.
Don't they know that be from the ING?
My peeps for keeps deep crews
Pay by murder ones and twos
Rip and Damus choose
To stay gangsta, you ever ran us
We bustin' clips like bananas, spottin' colored

It's just the hoodsta cap
ass New York critic killa
Dumpin' and pumpin' the
Led in their 'cause ain't
None of niggas ever have it up for the West
So now it's on and the gauge in my got me limping
Fuck while I'm coast tripping
Sagging as a East smashing tape recorders
is 187 on a New York reporter

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

all the critics in the N.Y.C.
Tryin' to get a hip-hop monopoly
But I've been writin' shit since '83
When y'all was still scared to use
Now everybody run and go and get triggers
And blaim it on these West 7 figure niggas
Just we made 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 when we flex this
With mic in hand, in the stands
We a mill yan from California to Japan, bitch

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

You make me 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 bleeding in particles, for bias all articles
I'm mashin' and so get the casket
I bet you this I get a fuckin' hip hop classic
I'm bannin' you niggas from the
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 your and your wack ass raps
we ain't real because we make snaps
Selling 6-4 a dab, what you lookin' at
With Brooklyn hat and your pen and pad
Nigga, I got a pocket of green bustin' at the seams
Fuck your jeans, fuck your magazines

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

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

Is Brooklyn in the What about Queens in the house?
in the house? Long Island in the house?
Is the Bronx in the house? Staten Island in the

The Coast is in the house sayin'
"Why you talkin'
What you talkin'
Why you loud?"
What you talkin'

What you talkin'
Why you talkin'

What you talkin'
Why you talkin'

What you talkin'
Why you talkin'
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