Lyric King of New York

Franky was a mook from the block we used to live on
The wanna be gangster;
The wanna be dapper Don, Don John on
the wall, I m your biggest fan
next to my little brother Paul.
Losing his grip, like Pesci, he d flip
if you talk to his brother he says they
always planned this trip
he wasn t oky-dokie running around like
Don Quixote, trying to free a man he
didn t even know B.
He had the roots he bought the suits
but the boys didn t like him mto tell you the truth
he had "J.G." on his pinky ring and he
lied about doin some time up in sing-sing
he flipped one fine summer afternoon
he told his brother Paulie, something had to be done soon.
He took Paulie and a couple of boys and jacked the
Coup de Ville to Illinois.

La-di da-di, free John Gotti, "The King of New York"

He got a clipper from a stripper, he met at a club
two sticks of dynamite and a .38 Snub
he tried to see the Don, without an invitation
stood outside the gate with his three man demonstartion
waving picket signs, the C.O. saw a nine;
and only Paulie go away with the skin on his behind.
Back in the borough the cops are acting
thorough; they raided Franky s room
and then they saw his bureau; upon it was a note,
with a rhyme that was dope, about
how he was breaking John out and how he couldn t cope.
It sait, "I don t fly coach, never save the roach,
The King of New York".

La-di da-di, free John Gotti, "The King of New York"