Preklad: Tvárou v tvár New York. Fly On The Wall.
Navigated into my own hole, I've got a stunning view Of all I can't control. It's insulated but the walls are cold. One foot on the ground. One eye on
wrappin their hands up in plastic bags On stage like a savage goin mad WHAT? Yeah yeah, sooooooooooooo! [Prodigy] Yeah, by all means you know you gotta put Queens on it Put cream on
Short dog, y'all, what you thought, y'all? Oakland, B K, New york y'all Be the voice for the streets we supply for years And go platinum on our most
Gyeah, gyeah, walk with me, come on Gyeah, it's like New York's been soft Ever since my nigga, Shyne, been sittin' in prison Yeah, check it Sip things
their hands up in plastic bags On stage like a savage goin mad WHAT? Yeah yeah, sooooooooooooo! [Prodigy] Yeah, by all means you know you gotta put Queens on it Put cream on
We comin' outta here, Lord, let us live Is that Michelle Chrisette? Black Wall, Coollie High, Scott Storch, let's ride O eight to infinity, California, New York
a plane Head Down South with no delayin' in a under a day New York to J.A. Take in the sun you know catch some rays back on the jet fly to JFK Gotta
around break it on down Digga Digga is crazy right now Everybody on the floor I tell ya all And if ya don't do nothin' but play the wall Come on left
fly or the floor fallin I'm a Tommy gun ? it ain't no best The rap game like a St. Louis verses New York battle, nobody won A bunch of fuckin 2's and
A million names on walls engraved in plaques Those who went back, received penalties for the axe Another heart is torn as close ones mourn Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on
on the tall blonde wooden benches in a grand station aglow with grace and then standing out on the platform and feeling the air on my face give back
she rich Her beeper start buzzin' so we pullin' out a flip In the back of my mind, I'm sayin' "Yes, go [unverified]" Find a nigga rich in New York's one
it, guess what we brought The hottest shit to bang from L.A. to the streets of New York All my people, get drunk, get high Get money, get rich, get fly
But you insist on bee in face, to let the world mind them Die die, gon, you curse your mother, wit no problem And steal a chicken, act fly, you couldn
dollar marketing plan With a brand new sub-machine gun And a hot dog, on a Yankee stadium bun First class rates, hire wall street messengers To move
my D.C. gettin' money) Always on the grind (This one goes to my New York gettin' money) If it ain't about money (This one goes to my New York gettin
