[Verse 1 : J Cole]
New York times
Come listen to these New York rhymes

A southern ^!$$% with a New York mind
In the concrete jungle of Queens trying to be Kings
Getting to the money, it seems, by any means

As I, watch it all pan out, try not to stand out
Fish out of water, yet an official reporter
Up here, life is a (*##$ I blow a kiss at her daughter

In a city where ^!$$%s will leave you %#@! outta order
So yeah, you heard the news, disturbing news
Shot a brother in the head, thank the lord he ain't dead

Was in a coma for months, eyes ain't opened them once
My ^!$$% visibally stressed in a mess he's smoking his blunt
What could I say, I can't relate to that

All I do is pray for that
This the city god told me "Go and make it" at
I got a date with destiny, I'm running late for that

Grab a paper, hey kid, you gotta pay for that

[Hook : 50 Cent & J Cole]

The New York Times
The New York Times
(Extra, extra, read all about it)

They say you can win anywhere if you can win here
And you ain't been no where if you ain't been here
Hustle hard, yeah it really ain't a game mane

Same places, different faces, on the train mane
New York, New York


[Verse 2 : J Cole]
Hop on the F train, took the express train
Skip that local %#@!, my vocal sick

That's how success came
Once kings now we pawns in this chess game
Wall street got black slave blood stains

Which means, we built this city
And never got scraps while the devil got fat
In fact, reparations for ^!$$%s in desperation

$#&@ money, get my kid a real education
Blood money spills, had a real revelation
Southside make you realize there's still segregation

Don't wanna preach I'm just thinking out loud
Sometimes I wanna save the world and I be thinking bout how
My motive, to lead my ^!$$%s to paradise

Imagine the world, free from pain
And we no longer scared at night
Far from the crime, the blind leading the blind

We dont make it primetime till we dyin'

[Hook]


[Verse 3: Bas]
How I go from selling reefa and plates

Till eating steaks with Cole and playing FIFA with Drake
Should've been in the States, property of the Jakes
Now I'm plotting on profits and properties on the lake

Let me properly immigrate you to it
Show you how the heads of states and gangsters do it
Them ^!$$%s talk a lot of %#@! but they ain't been through it

I done been up in everything, cars you never seen
Cities you never heard of, from the streets where they murder
Police observe us till they reach the verdict

Kill 'em all, $#&@ing kill 'em all
If you can't send 'em to the pen, send 'em to the morgue
Send 'em to the Lord, $#&@ it, send his broad

Hundred shots through the dark but they never hit my heart, ^!$$%
(*##$ ^!$$%, take a pause
Hundred shots through the dark you can never hit my heart


[Hook]