All The Critics in New Yo Lyrics by Westside Connection

All The Critics in New Yo Lyrics

    [Mack 10 talking]
    Goddamn! New York City!
    Skyscrapers and everything!

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

    [All]
    WESTSIIIIIDE!
    Is Brooklyn in the house?!? (Check it out)
    What about Queens in the house?!? (INGLEWOOOOD!!!)
    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?!?

    [Ice Cube]
    Fuck all the critics in the N-Y-C
    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 thru your borough
    wit my Raider jacket and my jheri curl, gangstas rule the world
    On the west, nevertheless, W-S
    We got the bomb and you niggas got the stress

    [Mack 10]
    You couldn't have said it no better homeboy
    With my automatic toy, I kill and destroy
    These buster ass critics from the N-Y-C
    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

    [WC}
    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
    Fuck U-N-I-T-Y, 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"

    [Ice Cube]
    Fuck all the critics in the N-Y-C
    tryin to get an East hip-hop monopoly
    But I've been writing gangsta shit since '83
    when y'all was still scared to use profanity
    Now everybody wanna 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

    [Mack 10]
    It's like the battle of the sexes
    You wanna treat us like bitches cos 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

    [WC]
    You make me wanna 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

    [Ice Cube]
    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

    Fuck all the critics in the N-Y-C
    and your articles tryin to rate my LP
    Fuck 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
    Fuck your baggy jeans, fuck your magazines

    [Mack 10]
    Hey hey hey, what's happenin round tre?
    It's still M-Y 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 wanna 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

    [WC]
    AIIIIYO!!! Nigga fuck that shit
    I gotta, kill it kill it, fuck 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 y'all for fuckin up hip-hop

    [All]
    Is Brooklyn in the house?!? (Check it out)
    What about Queens in the house?!? (WESTSIIIIIIIDE!!!)
    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?!?

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


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