Текст пісні
Fair enough
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)
West side!
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-Y-C
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 thru your borough
With 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-Y-C
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
Dumpin' and pumpin' 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 U-N-I-T-Y, 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-Y-C
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 wanna 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 wanna treat us like bitches cos 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 wanna 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 newsstands, pourin' 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-Y-C
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' six-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-Y 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 wanna 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
Ayo! Nigga fuck that shit
I gotta, kill it kill it, fuck a New York critic
He write 'bout 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? (West side!)
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?
What you talkin' 'bout? (Yeah, take it how you wanna take it)
What you talkin' 'bout? (We gon make it how we wanna make it)
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout? (What y'all nigga talkin' 'bout?)
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout? (Y'all ain't acquainting and barkin' on hip-hop)
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout? (This Westside Connection nigga)
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout? (West side)
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
Why you talkin' lie, what you talkin' 'bout?
West side nigga