Juro "Mez" Davis - New York Times lyrics

[Intro: J. Cole] This for all my n***as in the city This sh** 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 [Verse 1 : J Cole] New York times Come listen to these New York rhymes A southern n***a with a New York mind In the concrete jungle of Queens trying to be Kings Getting to the money, it seems, by any means As I, watch it all pan out, try not to stand out Fish out of water, yet an official reporter Up here, +Life is a b**h+, I blow a kiss at her daughter In a city where n***as will leave you sh** 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 stressed in a mess he's smoking his blunt What could I say, I can't relate to that All I do is pray for that This the 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 [Hook : 50 Cent & J Cole] 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 Hustle hard, yeah it really ain't a game mane Same places, different faces, on the train mane New York, New York [Verse 2 : J Cole] Hop on the F train, took the express train Skip that local sh**, 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, reparations for n***as in desperation f** 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 My motive, to lead my n***as to paradise Imagine the world, free from pain And we no longer scared at night Far from the crime, the blind leading the blind We dont make it primetime till we dyin' [Hook: J. Cole (50 Cent)] 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 Hustle hard, yeah it really ain't a game mane Same places, different faces, on the train mane New York, New York [Verse 3: Bas] How I go from selling reefa and plates Till eating steaks with Cole and playing FIFA with Drake Should've been in the States, property of the Jakes Now I'm plotting on profits and properties on the lake Let me properly immigrate you to it Show you how the heads of states and gangsters do it Them n***as talk a lot of sh** but they ain't been through it I done been up in everything, cars you never seen Cities you never heard of, from the streets where they murder Police observe us till they reach the verdict k** 'em all, f**ing k** 'em all If you can't send 'em to the pen, send 'em to the morgue Send 'em to the Lord, f** it, send his broad Hundred shots through the dark but they never hit my heart, n***a b**h n***a, take a pause Hundred shots through the dark you can never hit my heart [Hook: J. Cole (50 Cent)] 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 Hustle hard, yeah it really ain't a game mane Same places, different faces, on the train mane New York, New York