Goddamn! new york city! Skyscrapers and everything!
Back in the day, we used to respect y'all niggas We used to be down with y'all niggas All you have for the west coast, is criticism and disrespect So I say to you and your city Y'all niggas will never get our respect again Westside nigga (keeping it real) Yeah! (keeping it real)
Westside! Is brooklyn in the house? (check it out) What about queens in the house?!? (inglewood!) Manhattan in the house? (south central) Long island in the house? (check it out) Is the bronx in the house? (waddup) Staten island in the house? (woop woop) The west coast is in the house sayin Why you talkin loud? What you talkin bout?
Fuck all the critics in the n-why-see Who wants to rock the microphone after me? Think of who you are and who you be My energy holds it down like the nfc I'm going thorough through your borough Wit my raider jacket and my jheri curl, gangstas rule the world On the west, nevertheless, w-s We got the bomb and you niggas got the stress
You couldn't have said it no better homeboy With my automatic toy, I kill and destroy These buster ass critics from the n-why-see Don't they know that I be from the I-n-g My peeps play for keeps, deep crews pay dues By murder ones and twos, rip riders and damus Choose to stay gangsta, you never ever ran us We bustin clips like bananas, sportin colored bandanas
It's the mister hoodsta, cap peeler Dusty ass new york critic killer Dumping and pumping the motherfuckin lead in their chest Because ain't none of them niggas ever gave it up for the west So now it's on and, the gauge in my pants got me limpin Fuck you-n-I-t-why, I'm coast trippin Saggin as a pelle, smashin tape recorders This is 187 on a new york reporter
"new york, new york" "new york, new york" "new york, new york" "new york, new york"
Fuck all the critics in the n-why-see Tryin to get an east hip-hop monopoly But I've been writing gangsta shit since '83 When y'all was still scared to use profanity Now everybody want to run and go and get triggers And blame it on these west coast seven-figure niggas Just because we made it real niggas got to deal I hope blood ain't got to spill, I kill
It's like the battle of the sexes You want to treat us like bitches 'cause we're platinum when we flex this With mic in hand, fans in the stands We make a mill-ion from california to japan, bitch Went overseas, seen d's how we done it 88's to 100's to let me know who really run it This west coast gangsta shit got it crackin, or we jackin Packin nina's and sellin out arenas, niggas
You make me want to holler, throw up both my dubs And roll these niggas up, I got to beat em When I see me, t-roller cut off his scrotum Leave em bleedin in particles for them biases articles I'm mashin and blastin so get the casket I bet you after this I get a fuckin hip-hop classic I'm banning you niggas from the scene Kickin over newstands, pouring gasoline on your magazines
To the west my niggas, to the west To the west my niggas, to the west To the west my niggas, to the west We the best my niggas don't stress
Fuck all the critics in the n-why-see And your articles tryin to rate my lp Fuck your backpacks and your wack ass raps Sayin we ain't real because we make snaps Sellin 6-fo's to the dab, what you lookin at? With your brooklyn hat and your pen and pad, nigga I got a pocket full of green busting at the seams Fuck your baggy jeans, fuck your magazines
Hey hey hey, what's happenin round tre? It's still m-why critic k on mines all motherfuckin day It's a trip the script flipped from when you niggas was bossin Got to flossin, fell off, and got the nail in the coffin Who want to regret, fuckin with my set I be a 24-year street westside connect vet You niggas better watch how you greet us when you meet us We packin heaters and the only way you beat us is cheat us
Nigga fuck that shit I gotta, kill it kill it, fuck a new york critic He write about how I lived it, did it, plus I'm still with it Puttin it down on all these djs, hate, fakin and flakin Never once played my record on their radio station No love for a new york critic or disc jock Matter of fact I'm blamin all y'all for fuckin up hip-hop
Is brooklyn in the house? (check it out) What about queens in the house? Manhattan in the house? (and it don't stop) Long island in the house? (yeah! yeah! check it out) Is the bronx in the house? Staten island in the house? (say what say what?) The west coast is in the house sayin (yeah) Why you talkin loud? What you talkin bout?
Yeah, take it how you want to take it, punk We're gonna make it how We gonna make it, punk What y'all niggas talkin about? Y'all ain't acquantin and barkin on hip-hop This westside connection