New York, New York
New York, New York

New York, New York easy guitar chords by Method Man

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Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 4

Capo

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0

Capo

  • Em

  • Em

    • Intro 1


    Verse 1
    Yeah, 

    back 
    for 
    another 
    one 
    bitch, 
    let's 
    do 
    it, 
    ha, 

    Staten 

    Island 
    stand 
    up, 

    Long 

    Island 

    stand 
    up, 

    Jersey, 
    yeah, 

    Brick 

    City 
    nigga, 
    fuck 
    y 
    'all, 
    yo, 

    I 
    start 
    this rhyme 
    with how 

    y 'all feeling 
    this 
    bitch, 
    I'm fit 
    in a spit, 

    got 
    steel 
    in my 
    grip, 
    but I 
    ain't talking 

    I'm 
    talkin' 
    mikes, 

    niggas 
    stealin' 
    my 
    shit 

    Then 
    try 
    to act 
    like they 

    ain't feelin' 
    my 
    shit 

    Now 
    if 
    we talkin' 
    about 
    ones, 

    Russell 

    Simmons 

    I'll 
    be talkin' 
    in 
    tongues, 

    fuck where 
    you from 

    And all 
    them niggas 
    you brung, 

    punk, 
    my clan 
    don't 

    Sleep, 
    son, 
    I put 
    that on 
    each one 

    Be 
    cool 
    until the 
    heat, 
    cunt, 

    these pussies 
    might 
    eat some 

    Nigga, 
    this 
    is 
    not 
    pop 
    music 

    Un
    less you're 
    tryin' 
    to pop 
    shots 
    to 
    it 

    Why 
    would 
    you have 
    that 

    Glock 
    and not 
    use 
    it? 

    How could 
    you hear 
    this joy 

    and not 
    lose 
    it? 

    You're stupid, 
    you need 
    to shop 
    in 

    Cupid 
    to 
    get love 
    for 
    this music 

    Dia
    mond 
    in 
    the rough, 
    like 

    Iodine 

    Find 
    me in 
    the cut, 
    if 
    not, 

    probably 
    find 
    me in 
    the slut 

    If 
    I'm 

    Miami 
    or 

    Dutch, 
    that 
    means my 
    plans 

    Back 
    with 
    the stuff, 

    a lot 
    of back 
    talking, 
    backing 
    it 
    up 

    Now 
    I like 
    being 
    a 
    man, 

    I like 
    weeding 
    my 
    hands I 
    like 
    my 

    G's 
    in advance, 

    but y 
    'all don't under
    stand 

    Me 
    no lie, 
    fake 
    niggas 
    that 

    ain't got 
    the game 
    right 

    Me 
    no lie, 
    y 
    'all killers 
    pop 

    shit 
    and can't 
    fight 

    Now 
    I like 
    being 
    a 
    man, 

    I like 
    weeding 
    my 
    hands I 
    like 
    my 

    G's 
    in advance, 

    but y 
    'all don't understand 

    Me 
    no lie, 
    fake 
    niggas 
    that 

    ain't got 
    the game 
    right 

    Me 
    no lie, 
    and y 
    'all killers 
    pop 

    shit 
    and can't 
    fight 

    Back 
    in 
    the zone, 
    no 
    backbone 

    He 
    stepped 
    on 
    and spat 
    on, 

    niggas 
    don't 
    last 
    long 

    If I 
    don't get 
    your map 
    right, 

    soon 
    I'm gon' 
    act wrong 

    I 
    ain't tryna 
    get 
    clapped 
    on 

    for making 
    these rap 
    songs 

    If 
    you're 
    misunderstood, 

    can't 
    walk 
    with the 
    hood thing 

    To 
    know 
    that I've 
    been swindled, 

    bamboozled, 
    and 
    hoodwinked 

    These 
    rappers 
    ain't 
    like 
    me, 

    the heat 
    that there 
    might be 

    More 
    to 
    me than some 

    Air 

    Force 
    ones 
    in a 
    white tee 

    I'm 
    nice, 

    B 

    Six 
    foot 
    four, 
    un
    cooked raw, 

    a pocket 
    full 
    of straws 

    I'm 
    that nigga 
    to 
    look for, 

    on 
    paper 
    like 
    a bookstore 

    Ain't 
    never 
    been 
    shook poor 

    I 
    switched 
    from 

    Mected 

    Man 
    to 

    Candyman 
    and then 
    hooked off 

    Still 
    ain't nothin' 
    smooth, 
    yo 

    Who 
    wanna spit 
    flows? 

    First learn 
    to put 
    the weed 
    inside the 

    bag 
    and then 
    get dough 

    Drink 
    it dope 
    mothafucka, 
    yo 
    peoples 
    and 
    kinfolk 
    I 
    been 
    dope, 

    anything 
    less 
    is an 
    insult 

    Goddamn, 
    now 
    I like 
    being 
    a 
    man, 

    I like 
    weed 
    in my 
    hands 

    I 
    like 
    my 

    G's 
    in advance, 

    bitch I 
    don't under
    stand, 
    me 
    no lie 

    Fake 
    niggas 
    that 
    ain't got 
    the game 
    right, 

    me 
    no lie 

    And y 
    'all killers 
    pop 
    shit 
    and can't 
    fight 

    Now 
    I like 
    being 
    a 
    man, 

    I like 
    weed 
    in my 
    hands 

    I like 
    my 

    G's 
    in advance, 

    bitch I 
    don't under
    stand, 
    me 
    no lie 

    Fake 
    niggas 
    that 
    ain't got 
    the game 
    right, 

    me 
    no lie 

    And y 
    'all 
    killers 
    pop 
    shit 
    and can't 
    fight 

    So 
    obnoxious 
    that I'm 
    toxic, 

    call 
    it diarrhea 

    Spit that 
    hot 
    shit cause 
    I'm 

    hot bitch 
    and 
    got butterfinger
    s 

    Oops 
    I dropped 

    Ceylon 
    lopsa 

    Take 
    the recipe 
    that's 

    been 
    concocted 

    Got women 
    just like 
    a 
    vehicle, 
    topless 

    Look 
    first 
    you'll see 
    when I'm 
    work 

    Pulling 
    paper straight 
    out 

    the woodwork 
    until 
    I push 
    dirt 

    Shit 
    I 
    hate to 
    fuck up 
    a good 
    shirt 

    But 
    dammit 
    I'm 
    back, 
    I done 
    relapsed 

    Shot 
    a dose 
    of 
    some murder 
    I 

    wrote then 
    leaned 
    back 

    I'm 
    part ghost, 
    part 
    caparis
    sa 
    in 
    debt 

    Part 
    dirty, 
    you and 

    Jizz are 
    mas
    ter killer 
    and 
    chef 

    But 
    I'm all 
    map, 

    all 
    that killin' 
    some complex 
    niggas 

    Have 
    yet 
    to blow 
    up, they 
    noth

    in' 
    but bomb 
    threats 

    New 

    York, 
    y 
    'all, 
    shoot and 
    shake me, 

    I bleed 

    Yankee 

    I'm 
    hot, 
    dawg, 
    y 'all ain't 

    Nathan to 
    put 
    it 
    frankly 

    I 
    find 
    excuses 
    to 
    fi
    nally 
    lose it, 

    then write 
    exclusives 

    M -E 
    like 

    VH1, 
    you know, 
    behind the 
    music 

    Now 
    I like 
    being 
    a 
    man, 

    I like 
    weed 
    in my 
    hands 

    I 
    like 
    my 

    G's 
    in advance, 

    but y 'all 
    don't understand 

    Me 
    no lie, 
    fake 
    niggas 
    that 

    ain't got 
    the game 
    right 

    Me 
    no lie, 
    y 
    'all killers 
    pop 

    shit 
    and can't 
    fight 

    Now 
    I like 
    being 
    a 
    man, 

    I like 
    weed 
    in my 
    hands 

    I like 
    my 

    G's 
    in advance, 

    but y 
    'all don't understand 

    Me no 
    lie, 
    fake 
    niggas 
    that 

    ain't got 
    the game 
    right 

    Outro 1
    And 
    yeah, 
    I kill 
    this pop 
    shit 
    and can't 
    fight 






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