[Intro: 2Pac]

[Hook: Tony Yayo]
My city never sleep up in New York
Models turn to stars up in New York
Gym stars in that mouth up in New York
Time Square stay lit up in New York

[Verse 1: Tony Yayo]
(Break it down now!) Yeah!
N***as saying that NY hit, but Jay’s on the charts and 50′s still rich
Diddy milking the game, Ciroc was a hit
Harlem n***a with the marketing skills of Rich
NY n***a set trends (what else!?)
Dip Set n***as set trends (what else!?)
Never seen so much groupies on a tour bus
The first time I rolled Nasty Nas tour bus
And damn near cried when he signed to Murder Inc
Ja was selling records, I was selling crack on a bench
Ruff Ryders, D-Block had the streets
Was on that Cash Money tour with DMX and Swizz Beats
How many MC's must get this
Don't make yourself a market your soul get lift
And when the ball drop, I'm in a new drop
John Gotti fireworks on the rooftop
[Hook]

[Verse 2: Uncle Murda]
N***as acting like New York ain't the livest city (BROOKLYN)
Acting like Nas ain't say I remind them of Biggie (I agree)
Mobb Deep had shooked once standing in the crib
M.O.P. had n***as running up in n***as cribs
The Wu rolling 30 deep on some grimy shit
Puff and Mase dancing, wearing that shiny shit (they was winning!)
I'm stuck on that old Jay, don't ask me how come
I prefer his old shit, I bump his old albums
The Reasonable Doubt, Hard Knock Life and the Blueprint (Classic!)
Make me just want to get money, pimp, and shoot shit
When Fab throw a party, all the hoes come out
We ain't (?) on the couch, pouring patron in their mouth
On Twitter, Trinidad James wrote I'm a legend
I was still going to still violate him, but Maino already checked him
N***as drink, drink, pop molly and start sweatin'
Talk reckless, then apologize when we press em

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz]
N***a NY is everything, Diddy Bop, heavy bling
Bright lights night life, White right from the Medellín
Mula is an order, Shooters on every corner
You ain't for a tough find your medulla in your explorer
You come through flexing leave with one shoe, sweatin'
My knuckles DJ who wanna 1,2 second
You dealin' with a real n***a from New York
Trinidad I don't know what the fuck you thought
N***a my cake is ok without that radio play
Book a show date tomor sell it out the same day
I don't wait on club lines, n***as rush me in the party
Can't even walk in these streets without a Yaowa from somebody
Hell look at you cowards lookin' sloppy, chill
My life grand cause shooters keep it a thousand with the papi
Frontin' with papa willy like a brand new Kawasaki
Stretch a figure on the hill with a round from out the tommy
I rappin' for these streets, these n***as singin' bout a molly
I'm still 501 these n***as yoga and palati
If I ain't in this booth laying vocals, then I'm probably
In my pent house pokin' on a Molly