[Intro: Greg Nice & Z-Trip]
Trying to make a dollar out a dime and some pennies (pennies, pennies)
Tryin’ to make a dollar
(Rock, rock, rock, rock)
Make a dollar, make a dollar, make a dollar
*Rock for a fee, rock for a fee)
Tryin’ to, Tryin’, Tryin’ to make a dollar out a dime
(Rock, rock, rock, rock)
(Don’t ever ever think of jerkin’ me)
Uh, ey, it’s Greg eh eh N-I-C-E, I’m in the place to be uh
With my brother Kweli, uh
Check it out, uh
Brooklyn in the house, uh
Money making Manhattan in the house
Staten Island in the house, uh
The Q borough Queens in the house, uh
Boogey down
[Hook]
I’m a New York kid (eh)
With New York means
And New York dreams (all day all night)
That live in me
My destination is destiny
Soon you will see (I be)
Me shining (I be)
Shining (you know I be)
Shining (all day)
Shining (you know I be)
Shining (yeah we be)
Shining (yeah we be)
Shining
Shining (uh)
[Verse 1: Greg Nice]
Yo I’m a native New Yorker, straight shit talker
Holding down the fort like Hezekiah Walker
Can’t get rid of her, thinks she a stalker
Put the trees down, here comes the cheeba hawker
Y’all know the deal, with style so ill
Rip shit down, I don’t care who on the..(-scratch-)
Y’all know the deal, with styles so ill
Rip shit down, I (down, down)
Y’all know the deal, with styles so ill
Rip shit down, I don’t care who on the bill
20 years later getting Mass appeal
(Z-Trip) Slicing on the wheels of steel
Bang this beat like a flagrant foul
Don’t make me mad, I get ill like ow
I go 7:30 on ya, get buck wild
Stay amped up with my OG style
Pass me the Vodka, yo pass me the juice
I used to watch Kung Fu flicks on the deuce
Me, cousin Meatball and my cousin Bruce
Get up, get down, oh get funky, get loose
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Talib Kweli]
If my city is my lady, my music is my baby
Lately this chick is crazy, I'm ready to catch a Katie (killer)
Living on top of graves and the bones of African slaves
Only time it’s like I'm not in a cage is on stage
I'm from the birthplace of Pac and Big
Stop and frisk while we call the cops pigs
The way the gods lives it’s like they teaching there’s never no substitute
When I’m heading to Brighton beach, get in touch with the Russian Jews
Egyptians and the Haitians, I kick it with black Arawaks
Hittin’ the Bob Dylan, I’m swiggin’ the Jack Kerouac
The fact is, they don’t make them like they used to
Plus I miss the old 40 deuce too
We used to do them hood rat things, like smoking with the cigarettes
The thrill is gone now; Mickey Mouse is the biggest threat
Hell’s kitchen, more like Hell’s Kitchenette
Road tripping, where I'm going I ain't figured yet
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Styles P]
I’m the New York king, yeah I shine like the North Star (New York)
Getting mad high in the 5 star (-sound of marijuana being smoked-)
Or a 4 star, hotel for the meditation (word)
In the hood with this gentrification (legend)
What’s the detonation, or the destination? (huh?)
Let me know what the agenda is (let me know)
And where the 2/5th vendors is (where’d they go?)
Write rhymes in my head, no penmanship (yea)
Yeah I smoke for the senses (haha)
Think of my niggas doing they sentences (salute)
See the cops I got the New York 6th sense (-sound of spray paint-)
Did a couple years but, I ain’t do shit since (uh uh)
Jail is slavery part 2 (part two)
Yeah I’m brave and I got a lot of heart too (I got heart)
And I’m real fucking smart too (a wise guy)
New York shine king, you should play your part too
[Hook]
