NewYorkTimes

New York Times (Explicit) - J. Cole/50 Cent (50美分)/Bas

Lyrics by：Bas/Jermaine Cole/Curtis Jackson

Composed by：Bas/Jermaine Cole/Curtis Jackson

Produced by：J. Cole/J. Cole

This for all my n***as in the city

This s**t really for Queens though

Really for Queens though

Ya know

Big city of dreams, motivated by schemes

Getting money regimine with my get money machine

Nah mean yeah

Yeah New York times

Come listen to these New York rhymes

A southern n***a with a New York mind

In the concrete jungle of Queen trying to be kings

Getting to the money of sins by any means

As I watch it all, pain out, trying not to stand out

Fish out of water, unofficial reporter

Appear, life is a b***h I blow a kiss at her daughter

In a city with n***a will leave you s**t outta order

So yeah, you heard the news, disturbing news

Shot a brother in the head, thank the lord he ain't dead

Was in a coma for months, eyes ain't opened them once

My n***a visibally stretch in a mess he's smoking a blunt

What could I say, I can't relate to that

All I do is pray for that

This is city god told me : 'go and make it' at

I got a date with destiny, I'm running late for that

Grab a paper, hey kid, you gotta pay for that

The New York Times

The New York Times

Extra, extra, read all about it

They say you can win anywhere

If you can win here

And you ain't been no where if you ain't been here

Ball so hard you ain't really in the game man

Same place, different face, on the train, man

New York, New York

Hop on the F train, took the express train

Skip that local s**t, my vocal sick

That's how success came

Once kings now we pawns in this chess game

Wall Street got black slave blood stains

Which means, we built this city

And never got scraps while the devil got fat

In fact, reparation for n***as and desperation

F**k money, get my kid a real education

Blood money spills, had a real revelation

Southside make you realize there's still segregation

Don't wanna preach I'm just thinking out loud

Sometimes I wanna save the world and

I be thinking bout how

To lead my n***as to paradise

Imagine the world, free from pain

And we no longer scared the night

Far from the crime, the blind leading the blind

We gon make it primetime till we dyin'

The New York Times

The New York Times

The New York Times