King Of New York Lyrics
| Song | King Of New York |
| Artist | MF Grimm |
| Album | Scars & Memories |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Boylan, Carey | |
| I'm the king of New York, I rule with an iron fist | |
| Gold around my neck and on my fingers and wrist | |
| A shift full of pitiful punks on my shit list | |
| Drop the S, now shit means hit list | |
| Motherfuckers want to sit at my spot a lot | |
| Cause what I got, but my seats hot | |
| It's not your turn, your black ass'll burn | |
| To the ground, pound for pound | |
| Twelve rounds, how that sound? | |
| A title bout called time out | |
| Your rhymes are tied without a doubt | |
| No clout, smelling like sauerkraut | |
| Mine stay hard, like a dick on stout guinness | |
| I'm in this to win this, you're pissed | |
| So you pout like a trout in a drought, can't get out | |
| You want to scream but fish can't shout | |
| I'm five foot ten, so don't wonder how | |
| I'm the king of New York, just get down and bow | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Let the king do his thing, don't give me no hassle | |
| The streets is my thrown, New York is my castle | |
| Some come close, but they can't get it right | |
| (I'm the king, king of New York like Frank White) | |
| Let the king do his thing, don't give me no hassle | |
| The streets is my thrown, New York is my castle | |
| Some come close, but they can't get it right | |
| (I'm the king, king of New York like Frank White) | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| I pulled triggers on hard head niggas, I'm leaving dense | |
| Climbing motherfuckers like a school yard fence | |
| A posse tried to jump me, to get a good rep fine | |
| That's why the tec nine is always kept | |
| Sixteen shots, sixteen niggas hurt | |
| Sixteen stagger, sixteen hit the dirt | |
| No hospital beds, coffins all instead | |
| Cause all sixteen shots went dead to the head | |
| I can't think about anything else (Naw kid) | |
| Just my family, and then I go for self | |
| In the streets it's hard but in jail it's even tougher | |
| That's when shit get rougher | |
| So I stay far away, no horse play | |
| I stray from negativity and I wait for my pay day | |
| Play basketball to let time pass | |
| But to let a nigga know, once in a while I kick some ass | |
| If I go so I have beef with a crew | |
| (gun shots) He's dead, (gun shots) the dog too | |
| Main maniac of all maniacs in Manhattan | |
| Step on the sidewalk, and suckers start scattin' | |
| Respect with a tec, I get my money with a mac | |
| A 380 infrared light is exactly what I pack | |
| [Chorus] | |
| I had it hard, but I took it in stride | |
| I did a lot of bad shit, then I had to hide | |
| The messenger of death killing rappers and lovers | |
| All the brothers get smothered, also mothers, under covers | |
| To get paid was the reason (Gotta make that dough) | |
| From murder the treason, it depended on the season | |
| Cause I did all types of shit | |
| I murder niggas for free, and also contract hits | |
| I specialize in hand to hand combat | |
| More street fights than a motherfucking alley cat | |
| As I bash ya head, I laugh at ya | |
| The baddest little nigga since Shaft in Africa | |
| I'm not peaceful like Desmond Tutu | |
| I drink blood like it's Yoo-Hoo, I kill like Shaka Zulu | |
| There's three rules I live by boy | |
| And that's Crush, Kill, Destroy (motherfucker) | |
| [Chorus] |
| zuo qu : Boylan, Carey | |
| I' m the king of New York, I rule with an iron fist | |
| Gold around my neck and on my fingers and wrist | |
| A shift full of pitiful punks on my shit list | |
| Drop the S, now shit means hit list | |
| Motherfuckers want to sit at my spot a lot | |
| Cause what I got, but my seats hot | |
| It' s not your turn, your black ass' ll burn | |
| To the ground, pound for pound | |
| Twelve rounds, how that sound? | |
| A title bout called time out | |
| Your rhymes are tied without a doubt | |
| No clout, smelling like sauerkraut | |
| Mine stay hard, like a dick on stout guinness | |
| I' m in this to win this, you' re pissed | |
| So you pout like a trout in a drought, can' t get out | |
| You want to scream but fish can' t shout | |
| I' m five foot ten, so don' t wonder how | |
| I' m the king of New York, just get down and bow | |
| Chorus | |
| Let the king do his thing, don' t give me no hassle | |
| The streets is my thrown, New York is my castle | |
| Some come close, but they can' t get it right | |
| I' m the king, king of New York like Frank White | |
| Let the king do his thing, don' t give me no hassle | |
| The streets is my thrown, New York is my castle | |
| Some come close, but they can' t get it right | |
| I' m the king, king of New York like Frank White | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I pulled triggers on hard head niggas, I' m leaving dense | |
| Climbing motherfuckers like a school yard fence | |
| A posse tried to jump me, to get a good rep fine | |
| That' s why the tec nine is always kept | |
| Sixteen shots, sixteen niggas hurt | |
| Sixteen stagger, sixteen hit the dirt | |
| No hospital beds, coffins all instead | |
| Cause all sixteen shots went dead to the head | |
| I can' t think about anything else Naw kid | |
| Just my family, and then I go for self | |
| In the streets it' s hard but in jail it' s even tougher | |
| That' s when shit get rougher | |
| So I stay far away, no horse play | |
| I stray from negativity and I wait for my pay day | |
| Play basketball to let time pass | |
| But to let a nigga know, once in a while I kick some ass | |
| If I go so I have beef with a crew | |
| gun shots He' s dead, gun shots the dog too | |
| Main maniac of all maniacs in Manhattan | |
| Step on the sidewalk, and suckers start scattin' | |
| Respect with a tec, I get my money with a mac | |
| A 380 infrared light is exactly what I pack | |
| Chorus | |
| I had it hard, but I took it in stride | |
| I did a lot of bad shit, then I had to hide | |
| The messenger of death killing rappers and lovers | |
| All the brothers get smothered, also mothers, under covers | |
| To get paid was the reason Gotta make that dough | |
| From murder the treason, it depended on the season | |
| Cause I did all types of shit | |
| I murder niggas for free, and also contract hits | |
| I specialize in hand to hand combat | |
| More street fights than a motherfucking alley cat | |
| As I bash ya head, I laugh at ya | |
| The baddest little nigga since Shaft in Africa | |
| I' m not peaceful like Desmond Tutu | |
| I drink blood like it' s YooHoo, I kill like Shaka Zulu | |
| There' s three rules I live by boy | |
| And that' s Crush, Kill, Destroy motherfucker | |
| Chorus |
| zuò qǔ : Boylan, Carey | |
| I' m the king of New York, I rule with an iron fist | |
| Gold around my neck and on my fingers and wrist | |
| A shift full of pitiful punks on my shit list | |
| Drop the S, now shit means hit list | |
| Motherfuckers want to sit at my spot a lot | |
| Cause what I got, but my seats hot | |
| It' s not your turn, your black ass' ll burn | |
| To the ground, pound for pound | |
| Twelve rounds, how that sound? | |
| A title bout called time out | |
| Your rhymes are tied without a doubt | |
| No clout, smelling like sauerkraut | |
| Mine stay hard, like a dick on stout guinness | |
| I' m in this to win this, you' re pissed | |
| So you pout like a trout in a drought, can' t get out | |
| You want to scream but fish can' t shout | |
| I' m five foot ten, so don' t wonder how | |
| I' m the king of New York, just get down and bow | |
| Chorus | |
| Let the king do his thing, don' t give me no hassle | |
| The streets is my thrown, New York is my castle | |
| Some come close, but they can' t get it right | |
| I' m the king, king of New York like Frank White | |
| Let the king do his thing, don' t give me no hassle | |
| The streets is my thrown, New York is my castle | |
| Some come close, but they can' t get it right | |
| I' m the king, king of New York like Frank White | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I pulled triggers on hard head niggas, I' m leaving dense | |
| Climbing motherfuckers like a school yard fence | |
| A posse tried to jump me, to get a good rep fine | |
| That' s why the tec nine is always kept | |
| Sixteen shots, sixteen niggas hurt | |
| Sixteen stagger, sixteen hit the dirt | |
| No hospital beds, coffins all instead | |
| Cause all sixteen shots went dead to the head | |
| I can' t think about anything else Naw kid | |
| Just my family, and then I go for self | |
| In the streets it' s hard but in jail it' s even tougher | |
| That' s when shit get rougher | |
| So I stay far away, no horse play | |
| I stray from negativity and I wait for my pay day | |
| Play basketball to let time pass | |
| But to let a nigga know, once in a while I kick some ass | |
| If I go so I have beef with a crew | |
| gun shots He' s dead, gun shots the dog too | |
| Main maniac of all maniacs in Manhattan | |
| Step on the sidewalk, and suckers start scattin' | |
| Respect with a tec, I get my money with a mac | |
| A 380 infrared light is exactly what I pack | |
| Chorus | |
| I had it hard, but I took it in stride | |
| I did a lot of bad shit, then I had to hide | |
| The messenger of death killing rappers and lovers | |
| All the brothers get smothered, also mothers, under covers | |
| To get paid was the reason Gotta make that dough | |
| From murder the treason, it depended on the season | |
| Cause I did all types of shit | |
| I murder niggas for free, and also contract hits | |
| I specialize in hand to hand combat | |
| More street fights than a motherfucking alley cat | |
| As I bash ya head, I laugh at ya | |
| The baddest little nigga since Shaft in Africa | |
| I' m not peaceful like Desmond Tutu | |
| I drink blood like it' s YooHoo, I kill like Shaka Zulu | |
| There' s three rules I live by boy | |
| And that' s Crush, Kill, Destroy motherfucker | |
| Chorus |
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