Lyrics
MF Grimm - "The King of New York"
[Emcee(s): MF Grimm
[Producer(s): MF Grimm
I'm the King of New York
I rule with an iron fist
Gold around my neck and on my fingers and wrist
A ship full of pitiful punks on my shit list
Drop the "S," now "shit" means "hit list"
Motherfuckers want to sit in my spot a lot
'Cause what I got? But my seat's 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 tired
Without a doubt, no clout, smelling like sauerkraut
Mines 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
(X2)
Let the King do his thing, don't give me no hassle
The streets is my throne, New York is my castle
Some come close, but they can't get it right
'Cause I'm the King of New York like Fred White
I pull triggers on hardhead niggas, I'm leaving dents
Climb motherfuckers like a schoolyard fence
A posse tried to jump me to get a good rep—fine
That's why the TEC-9 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 (Nah, 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 horseplay
I stray from negativity and I wait for my payday
Play basketball to let time pass
But to let a nigga know, once in a while, I kick some ass
If I go somewhere, have beef with a crew
Bah-bah, he's dead, bah-bah, the dog too
Main maniacs of all maniacs in Manhattan