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The Bad Apple

Manifesto专辑

  • Brooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenBrooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenI'm from
    New York City, birthplace of the gritty
    Dog eat dog, only jakes willing to work with me
    Watch your back 'fore they lace your sizurp with a mickey
    Bodies'll burn like dub sacks of purple sticky
    Kojaks developing
    Kodaks of your meeting engagements
    The young guns put pressure on the made men
    The fiends'll, they'll cap you for your package
    The mass act savage, living sis' selling her ass and tits
    Your best friend'll send shots to wet ya
    The badlands, hammers on the waistband, the regular
    Trapped in this hood dwelling, selling five and dime'
    Cuz ain't 9 to 5 for two-time felons
    And little man wanna be just like me
    The sadness thing, he just might be
    Where the livest,
    Christopher
    Walken, King of
    New York and
    Resort to talking when the heaters on him, grieving on him
    Brooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenBrooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenOl' blue eyes said, "You make it here, you make it anywhere"
    Drug wars for every square, bloodsport, the semi's air
    Now watch where you walk through, watch who you talk to
    Watch the young
    Gotti's, the'll off you
    It's like the mafia plot
    The fishermen, they find more bodies then cops
    But the shots don't stop, trynna get it get it
    Inside where the broads and the ballers kick it
    Big city lights, with chicks and ice
    You living, you victim to them sick gritty types
    Drooling with their tongues out, guns out, spraying clips
    Who lay in the pits and pray for a taste of it
    If you can sleep, you awaken by the loud sound
    Of barking chrome, sound foul but
    I call it home
    So keep heat when on the roam
    Speak brief when on the phone
    In these mean streets you all alone
    Brooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenBrooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten
  • Brooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenBrooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenI'm from
    New York City, birthplace of the gritty
    Dog eat dog, only jakes willing to work with me
    Watch your back 'fore they lace your sizurp with a mickey
    Bodies'll burn like dub sacks of purple sticky
    Kojaks developing
    Kodaks of your meeting engagements
    The young guns put pressure on the made men
    The fiends'll, they'll cap you for your package
    The mass act savage, living sis' selling her ass and tits
    Your best friend'll send shots to wet ya
    The badlands, hammers on the waistband, the regular
    Trapped in this hood dwelling, selling five and dime'
    Cuz ain't 9 to 5 for two-time felons
    And little man wanna be just like me
    The sadness thing, he just might be
    Where the livest,
    Christopher
    Walken, King of
    New York and
    Resort to talking when the heaters on him, grieving on him
    Brooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenBrooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenOl' blue eyes said, "You make it here, you make it anywhere"
    Drug wars for every square, bloodsport, the semi's air
    Now watch where you walk through, watch who you talk to
    Watch the young
    Gotti's, the'll off you
    It's like the mafia plot
    The fishermen, they find more bodies then cops
    But the shots don't stop, trynna get it get it
    Inside where the broads and the ballers kick it
    Big city lights, with chicks and ice
    You living, you victim to them sick gritty types
    Drooling with their tongues out, guns out, spraying clips
    Who lay in the pits and pray for a taste of it
    If you can sleep, you awaken by the loud sound
    Of barking chrome, sound foul but
    I call it home
    So keep heat when on the roam
    Speak brief when on the phone
    In these mean streets you all alone
    Brooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    StatenBrooklyn,
    Bronx, Queens,
    ManhattanAnd
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten and
    Staten