
King Of N.Y. Fat Joe (Ft. Buju Banton)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "King Of N.Y." by Fat Joe (Ft. Buju Banton). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.

[Intro: Buju Banton, DJ Khalid & Fat Joe]
Any bumbaclart boy feel dem bad try an' test now, it's death!
Cut off dem blood-clot neck and don't give a fuck!
What unu feel like? Unu the king?
Uh-uh.. Saya, Saya!
What is it Khalid, what is it?
The original King of New York has returned
The King of New York, the Don Cartagena
Joe Crack, Terror Squad leader!
(Whoo.. whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo!!)
The fuck?! What?!
Yeah, mind on my money; money on my mind
Nigga mind on my money; money on my mind
[Verse 1: Fat Joe]
Aiyyo, who can test I, the true King of N.Y
Well ever since Big Boy died from Bed-Stuy
I've been, controllin the street, holdin the heat
Shit I only want what's stolen from me (Nah you ain't fuckin wit us)
Rollin with me, could only get you fast cars and
Fuck mad bitches and, dine amongst the stars
But we gettin mad chave in the life we live
MTV's comin over just to feel my "Crib"
Man fuck them other kids! That's how I feel
I thought I said it all in "He's Not Real"
But you beggin me to kill, must want ya brain spilled
I tryna keep cool but it's hard to tame still
Shit's still real man you never shoulda bought it
Must feel ill to see your boss get extorted
Specialize in audits and makin hot tapes
This rap shit don't cut it then it's back to flippin weight
Man I'm feelin great (Whoo!) Pushin mad units
Hustlin is the key to success but could you do it
I been layin it down, the spray and the town
It's about time the rightful owner claimed his crown
Any bumbaclart boy feel dem bad try an' test now, it's death!
Cut off dem blood-clot neck and don't give a fuck!
What unu feel like? Unu the king?
Uh-uh.. Saya, Saya!
What is it Khalid, what is it?
The original King of New York has returned
The King of New York, the Don Cartagena
Joe Crack, Terror Squad leader!
(Whoo.. whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo!!)
The fuck?! What?!
Yeah, mind on my money; money on my mind
Nigga mind on my money; money on my mind
[Verse 1: Fat Joe]
Aiyyo, who can test I, the true King of N.Y
Well ever since Big Boy died from Bed-Stuy
I've been, controllin the street, holdin the heat
Shit I only want what's stolen from me (Nah you ain't fuckin wit us)
Rollin with me, could only get you fast cars and
Fuck mad bitches and, dine amongst the stars
But we gettin mad chave in the life we live
MTV's comin over just to feel my "Crib"
Man fuck them other kids! That's how I feel
I thought I said it all in "He's Not Real"
But you beggin me to kill, must want ya brain spilled
I tryna keep cool but it's hard to tame still
Shit's still real man you never shoulda bought it
Must feel ill to see your boss get extorted
Specialize in audits and makin hot tapes
This rap shit don't cut it then it's back to flippin weight
Man I'm feelin great (Whoo!) Pushin mad units
Hustlin is the key to success but could you do it
I been layin it down, the spray and the town
It's about time the rightful owner claimed his crown
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