Song Lyrics

Goddamn! New York City!
Skyscrapers and everything!

Back in the day, we used to respect why'all niggas
We used to be down with why'all niggas
All you have for the West Coast, is criticism and disrespect
So I say to you and your city
Why'all niggas will never get our respect again
Westside nigga (Keeping it real)
Yeah! (Keeping it real)

Westsiiiide!
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?!?

F*ck all the critics in the N-why-see
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 through your borough
Wit my Raider jacket and my jeri 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-why-see
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
Dumping and pumping 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'
F*ck you-N-I-T-why, 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"

F*ck all the critics in the N-why-see
Tryin to get an East hip-hop monopoly
But I've been writing gangsta shit since '83
When why'all was still scared to use profanity
Now everybody want to 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 want to treat us like bitches 'cause 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 want to 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 newstands, pouring 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

F*ck all the critics in the N-why-see
And your articles tryin' to rate my LP
F*ck your backpacks and your wack ass raps
Sayin' we ain't real because we make snaps
Sellin' 6-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
F*ck your baggy jeans, f*ck your magazines

Hey hey hey, what's happenin' round tre?
It's still M-why 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 want to 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


AIIIIYO!!! Nigga f*ck that shit
I gotta, kill it kill it, f*ck a New York critic
He write about 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 why'all for fuckin' up hip-hop

Is Brooklyn in the house?!? (Check it out)
What about Queens in the house?!? (Westiiiide!!!)
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?!?

[Mack 10 talking over Ice Cube]
Why talkin loud?!? Yeah, take it how you want to take it, punk
What you talkin bout?!? We're gonna make it how
*repeat 15x* we gonna make it, punk
WESTSIDE NIGGA!!! What why'all niggas talkin about?
Y'all ain't acquantin and barkin on hip-hop
This Westside Connection
WESTSIIIIDE!!!

O'shea Jackson, William Calhoun, Ryan "binky" Garner, Dedrick Rolison

The duration of All The Critics In New York is 5:35 minutes and seconds.