Print

New York's pretty pity in the summer Rotten Apple, baby And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music) On my sundresses and cocaine Flyin' into one coast and the other Might score out here Now that I really wish I could stay Ya heard me? Uh, uh With all my efforts is so effortless (Like) I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it) Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone) Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly) 'Specially in the summer with a sundress A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked) Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom) Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set Uh, shit'll make your soul move Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food Turn a hot boy into a cold dude SongtexteStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves Uh, what's up, what's up? Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up? We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh New York's pretty pity in the summer And it ain't no pity in the rain Flyin' into one coast and the other Now that I really wish I could stay I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off Me and Jim, we woulda made a living smackin' coofies off The coupe, it cost, the roof is off See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft Why you mad? You knew we flossed Drip hard, stupid sauce Neiman Marcus, Louis Force Fuck you, truly yours I knew D-Firm, the real on it Henny up for Kenny Hutch Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour Me and Big Meech really have bottle wars Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is Gettin' money, you can say shit like "Swallow, whore" Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back Uh, what's up, what's up? Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up? We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh Camera saw what your crew made Now they snitchin' and they saw, they too fake I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, "I've been a fan of yours" Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly 'Cause the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside Got half the block combin' for a half a block I'm in an apricot foreign with Trav and Sky Jordan This junkie know I'm affiliated Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin, I feel he ate it They see me spittin' and they feel he made it So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated The Cream still a favorite My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga Uh, what's up, what's up? Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up? We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh New York's pretty pity in the summer And it ain't no pity in the rain Flyin' into one coast and the other Now that I really wish I could stay Aus Songtexte Mania