FES TAYLOR Lyrics
"New York"

[Intro: Lon Dini (Fes Taylor)]Dini,
baby, Two 4 War (The Milli is back)We about to blow,
you faggot niggaz ain't ready,
manKnow I mean? (Return of The Milli)Dini forever,
man, L.I., Baby Pa, L.G.P.
(You niggaz ain't ready) Get Fresh CrewLet's do it
(You don't got a choice but to get ready)[Lon Dini]Yo,
I flow through, anti-socialYou clown niggaz loco,
I fuck bad bitches on every postalMove and you see
it come through with new recruitsCuz I keep baggies
and boots, and niggaz'll shootLike I said before I
write it on spot, I'm going straight to the topLike
the yae when it touches the potOnly the kid Dini can
do this, smooth but I'm ruthlessViolators get chased
down and beat toothlessTwo of the kicks sounding like
the tank let offWe and Taylor hopped in the '07 shit
and jet offGrandpa asleep,
I'm in the room chopping gramsHow dare you faggot fucks
ever try to bite the handof the man that feeds you,
the man that leads youGuerilla warfare,
motherfucker, we breed crewsBang on you faggot ass
clownsAll you cowards scatter like fucking roaches
when you hear that soundYea,
huh...[Hook 2X: Fes Taylor]New York,
New York[Pa Bazil]Yo, yo, check itThey say a measure
of a man is measured by his accomplishmentsWhen you
wack, fool, you get no acknowledgementJust gotta swallow
it, back to the drawing boardWhen it gets too tough
and we might write some songs for y'allHit it like
Arthur with murderous waysWith the help of my niggaz
we'll take over this placeJust like a moment of fate,
it was written in the cardsLike the Sun was a line
between the moon and the starsAnd by the way,
my name is the PaI done fathered many styles on the
Shao' so get ready for moreYou never know what he's
holding in storeYou gotta guess it's uglyBeen through
the line of fire so I bet the rest is nothingI figure
less discussion, more action and destructionAt anyone
who has the audac' to try and send me something[Fes
Taylor]Myspace.com, we got spins like Flex dropped
the bombModern day King Kong,
alright, building in my palmTwin Tower of P,
that's my my charmThis ain't back in the days,
my beeper's goneYea, we on that Nextel chirp,
I got workI promote like I got milk right in the dirtUh-huh,
feel the worms and the snakes pass byMy cash buy,
anything I want so I ain't gotta ask whyFast fry like
french fries, cuz my cash priesUltimate hustler but
I don't got Damon Dash tiesNow I arise from the dead,
my niggaz lost lives and they bledBlow it through Mexico,
hide it from the fedsYea, yea,
Federallis, firearms, you never carrySee me crack a
smile, not necessarily happyI growl at the beat,
I'm just starting to barkThen I bite,
step on ya toes, paw on ya Clark'sFerrari is parked,
you shook when the lobby is darkThe beat gasoline,
probably'll sparkFire, nigga,
fire alarms, stop, look, admire the DonCars on cinder
blocks, tires is goneFly as the Fonz,
never went bronzeBut I'm trying to stunt gold sold
this pair of LeBronsHow we do things,
even my shoes blingWillie Rocks,
tell 'em these ain't rhymes,
those in a shoe stringThis my new thing,
Taylor and Pa BazilDini, Lis,
Gil put his cards on the tableWe dealing with a royal
flushSo when you peasents in the presence of royalty, shut up and hush