[Verse 1 : J Cole]
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New York times
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Come listen to these New York rhymes
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A southern nigga with a New York mind
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In the concrete jungle of Queens trying to be kings
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Getting to the money of sins by any means
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As I watch it all, pain out, trying not to stand out
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Fish out of water, unofficial reporter
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Appear, life is a bitch I blow a kiss at her daughter
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In a city with nigga will leave you shit outta order
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So yeah, you heard the news, disturbing news
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Shot a brother in the head, thank the lord he ain't dead
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Was in a coma for months, eyes ain't opened them once
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My nigga visibally stretch in a mess he's smoking a blunt
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What could I say, I can't relate to that
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All I do is pray for that
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This is city god told me : ‘go and make it' at
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I got a date with destiny, I'm running late for that
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Grab a paper, hey kid, you gotta pay for that
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[Hook : 50 Cent & J Cole]
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The New York Times (2x)
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(Extra, extra, read all about it)
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They say you can win anywhere
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If you can win there
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And you ain't been no where if you ain't been there
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Same place, damn face, on the train, man
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New York, New York
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[Verse 2 : J Cole]
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Hop on the F train, took the express train
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Skip that local shit, my vocal sick
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That's how success came
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Once kings now we pawns in this chess game
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Wall street got black slave blood stains
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Which means, we built this city
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And never got scraps while the devil got fat
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In fact, reparation for niggas and desperation
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Fuck money, get my kid a real education
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Blood money spills, had a real revelation
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Southside make you realize there's still segregation
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Don't wanna preach I'm just thinking out loud
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Sometimes I wanna save the world and I be thinking bout how
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To lead my niggas to paradise
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Imagine the world, free from pain
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And we no longer scared the night
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Far from the crime, the blind leading the blind
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We gon make it primetime till we dyin'
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[Hook]
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[Verse 3: Bas]
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How I go from selling reefa and plates
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Till eating steaks with Cole and playing FIFA with Drake
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Should've been in the States, property of the Jakes
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Now I'm plotting on profits and properties on the lake
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Let me property immigrate you to it
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Show you how the heads of states and gangsters do it
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Them niggas talk a lot of shit but they ain't been through it
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I done been up in everything, cars you never seen
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City's you never heard of, from the streets where they murder
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Police observe us till they reach the verdict
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Kill ‘em all, fucking kill ‘em all
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If you can't send ‘em till the pen, send ‘em to the morgue
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Send ‘em to the Lord, fuck it, send his broad
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Hundred shots through the dog but they never hit my heart, nigga
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Bitch nigga, take a pause
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Hundred shots through the dog you can never hit my heart
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[Hook]
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-----------------
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New York Times
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J. Cole |