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(feat. Run-D.M.C.) |
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[intro] |
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There are 8 million stories in the naked city |
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8 million stories [x4] |
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[verse one: Kurtis blow] |
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There are 8 million stories in the naked city |
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Some ice cold and told without pity |
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About the mean streets and the guetto culture |
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The pimps,the pushers,the sharks and vultures |
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Things that happen when it reaches dark |
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And all the things you hear about Central Park |
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You got to be down,you got to have strenght |
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If you're gonna survive past 110th |
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Well it ain't no thing when blood is spilled |
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The emergency ward is capacity filled |
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And nothin' ever comes as a big surprise |
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And the naked city never closes its eyes |
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A new story every day |
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Told a thousand different ways |
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That's how it is and that's how it goes |
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The city with the 8 and six big O's |
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New York is a crazy city man..... |
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Yo, my home boys Run DMC |
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[verse two: Run DMC] |
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A young girl seemed to be gaining weight |
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Her parents all thought it was the food she ate |
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Their attitudes were all la-de-da-de |
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But little did they know there's a baby in the body |
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She tried to hide it,but they'll soon know |
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Because sooner or later that baby's got to show |
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Can her daddy just accept it as a fact |
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That it wasn't the meals and it wasn't the snack |
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Then there's another girl,her name is Vicki |
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The girl is fine,but sho'nuff tricky |
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Vicki's fine,,but then she's not very kind |
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She'll lay you down and then she'll rob you blind |
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You wake up in the morning and you're feelin' blue |
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Because Vicki is gone and your money is too |
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She's more sinister than Peter Lorre |
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And this is just two of 8 million stories |
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8 million stories [x12] |
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[verse three: Kurtis Blow] |
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Fresh kid and the stories complete |
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Born on a dim lit ghetto street |
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Father unknown,mother astray |
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He learned about life the real hard way |
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Wearin' pretty things for all the ladies to see |
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Funky fresh diamonds and gold jewelry |
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Spent all his time just counting his bank |
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Because he's a fly muh-ha-ha,now fill in the blank |
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Because he's a fresh kid and his money's long |
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Been the subject of a ghetto song |
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Poor kids admire,ladies desire |
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They say water can't put out this fire |
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Because he's a fresh kid,yeah he's alright |
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Grew up with the pushers and the pimps of the night |
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And you could measure or even treasure |
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The thought that cocaine became his pleasure |
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Puruvian rock never cut with speed |
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And he gets skied untill his nose would bleed |
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And that was just one weakness,must admit |
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That when he took a hit he could never quit |
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Because he's one slick pusher livin' day by day |
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When the crazy thing happened along the way |
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You know he started to base at a hell a pace |
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And now it's a disgrace,he's got the pipe in his face |
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For twenty-four seven a terrible Jones |
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Didn't take care of business,didn't answer the phone |
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He stayed home alone all in the twilight zone |
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Just bittin' on a pipe like a dog on a bone |
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Turnin' blue in the face,by holdin' his breath |
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With the white cloud bullshit stuck in his chest |
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But then he tried to stop,but it never worked |
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And then the ladies started calling him a freebase jerk |
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Just to break it all down,you know he's not very slick |
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Because he spent all his money and he spent it real quick |
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He lost his car,his house,his friends and his wife |
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And basing cocaine made him lose his wife |
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Because he bought some on credit and couldn't pay |
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And then the pusher looked for him and blew him away |
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In a blaze of glory in his own territory |
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8 million stories sad but all real stories |
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8 million stories [x12] |
