The song 'Fortnight' by Taylor Swift and Post Malone tells a story about strong feelings, complicated relationships, and secret wishes. It talks about love, betrayal, and wanting someone who doesn't feel the same. The word 'fortnight' shows short-lived happiness and guilty pleasures, leading to sadness. It shows how messy relationships can be and the results of hiding emotions. “I was supposed to be sent away / But they forgot to come and get me,” she kickstarts the song in the first verse with lines suggesting an admission to a hospital for people with mental illnesses. She goes in the verse admitting her lover is the reason why she is like this. In the chorus, she sings about their time in love and reflects on how he has now settled with someone else. “I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary / And I love you, it’s ruining my life,” on the second verse she details her struggles to forget about him and the negative effects of her failure. “Thought of callin’ ya, but you won’t pick up / ‘Nother fortnight lost in America,” Post Malone sings in the outro.
Uh
This is, this is, this is, this is, this is
Uh
This is, this is
I got a hundred guns, uh
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a semi-automatic that spits
Next time if you talk, you talk
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a semi-automatic that spits
Next time if you talk, you talk
And I know
Y'all niggas is pussy, punani, vagina
Your monologue's getting tired, now it's time to ride
Apprentice, you fired, you're no longer desired
So take off them silly chains, put back on your wire
I'm on fire, Harley dipped in octane
Let East Coast bang, let West Coast bang
And Rule gon' bring the ghetto gospel
To every hood possible, pushing through in the sky blue
Back with the Gods, you now, preferably the four pound
Slugs flying at the speed of sound
Tryna catch the ears of niggas that's running their mouths
I might get my Brooklyn niggas to run in your house
I don't really understand what the running's about
But we're hunters, we take pride in airing our prey out
Leaving 'em laid out dead, and just a sport
'Cause we ain't playin' up here in New York
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
And you can tell the way that homie spit
That, nigga, I'm from New York, New York (BX, BX, nigga, uh)
I got a hundred ways to make a grip
Yes, I'm from New York, New York (yes, uh)
And you can tell I get real ignorant
'Cause, nigga, I'm from New York, New York
And this is how we do
Nigga, I can see the coke in your nose
This ain't a movie, even he got his head blown on the globe
And I was just about to find God
But now that Ma$e is back, I think I'd much rather find a ménage
And everybody talkin' crazy how they're AK spit
But we done did some investigatin', and they ain't spray shit
Not me, I'm the truth, homie, got the industry shook like
"Nah, nigga, Joe gon' let 'em loose on me"
True story, I'm bringing the T back
Even Roy Jones was forced to lean back (lean back)
My nigga Dre said, "Grind, cook"
Now we killing 'em hard
Niggas sayin' I must've found Pun's rhyme book
Got bitches on top of the Phantom
And the pinky got bling like the ring around Saturn
Cook Coke Crack, niggas fiend for that
And you already know the X is where the team be at, uh
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York (yeah)
Ruff Rydin', D-Block and shit
Nigga, fuck what you thought, you thought
And you can't take shit for granted
'Cause life is too short, too short (yeah)
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips (uh, yeah)
Nigga, I'm from New York
And this is how we do
Yo, I swear it couldn't be sweeter, life's a bitch
Dependin' on how you treat her, you might get rich
It's guaranteed you gon' die, and you might get missed
For maybe two or three hours, 'til they light they spliffs
And that coke will get you a long time
But when I let 'em know the dope is out, it's like America Online
Wise has awoken, and you know they say that you deserved it
Whenever you die with your eyes open
I still hold the title, 'cause I'm in the hood like them little motorcycles
Stick up kids hoppin' out with the old rifles
Just doing shit for nothin', it's so spiteful, ha, I'm just like you
Word that niggas wanna murk you is in the air
A double shot of 'gnac and the purple is in the air
And I'm not cocky, I'm confident
So when you tell me I'm the best it's a compliment
Ah-ha
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
And you can tell the way that homie spit
That, nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a semi-automatic that spits
Next time if you talk (ah-ha)
And this is how we do
This is, this is, this is, this is, this is
Uh
This is, this is
I got a hundred guns, uh
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a semi-automatic that spits
Next time if you talk, you talk
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a semi-automatic that spits
Next time if you talk, you talk
And I know
Y'all niggas is pussy, punani, vagina
Your monologue's getting tired, now it's time to ride
Apprentice, you fired, you're no longer desired
So take off them silly chains, put back on your wire
I'm on fire, Harley dipped in octane
Let East Coast bang, let West Coast bang
And Rule gon' bring the ghetto gospel
To every hood possible, pushing through in the sky blue
Back with the Gods, you now, preferably the four pound
Slugs flying at the speed of sound
Tryna catch the ears of niggas that's running their mouths
I might get my Brooklyn niggas to run in your house
I don't really understand what the running's about
But we're hunters, we take pride in airing our prey out
Leaving 'em laid out dead, and just a sport
'Cause we ain't playin' up here in New York
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
And you can tell the way that homie spit
That, nigga, I'm from New York, New York (BX, BX, nigga, uh)
I got a hundred ways to make a grip
Yes, I'm from New York, New York (yes, uh)
And you can tell I get real ignorant
'Cause, nigga, I'm from New York, New York
And this is how we do
Nigga, I can see the coke in your nose
This ain't a movie, even he got his head blown on the globe
And I was just about to find God
But now that Ma$e is back, I think I'd much rather find a ménage
And everybody talkin' crazy how they're AK spit
But we done did some investigatin', and they ain't spray shit
Not me, I'm the truth, homie, got the industry shook like
"Nah, nigga, Joe gon' let 'em loose on me"
True story, I'm bringing the T back
Even Roy Jones was forced to lean back (lean back)
My nigga Dre said, "Grind, cook"
Now we killing 'em hard
Niggas sayin' I must've found Pun's rhyme book
Got bitches on top of the Phantom
And the pinky got bling like the ring around Saturn
Cook Coke Crack, niggas fiend for that
And you already know the X is where the team be at, uh
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York (yeah)
Ruff Rydin', D-Block and shit
Nigga, fuck what you thought, you thought
And you can't take shit for granted
'Cause life is too short, too short (yeah)
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips (uh, yeah)
Nigga, I'm from New York
And this is how we do
Yo, I swear it couldn't be sweeter, life's a bitch
Dependin' on how you treat her, you might get rich
It's guaranteed you gon' die, and you might get missed
For maybe two or three hours, 'til they light they spliffs
And that coke will get you a long time
But when I let 'em know the dope is out, it's like America Online
Wise has awoken, and you know they say that you deserved it
Whenever you die with your eyes open
I still hold the title, 'cause I'm in the hood like them little motorcycles
Stick up kids hoppin' out with the old rifles
Just doing shit for nothin', it's so spiteful, ha, I'm just like you
Word that niggas wanna murk you is in the air
A double shot of 'gnac and the purple is in the air
And I'm not cocky, I'm confident
So when you tell me I'm the best it's a compliment
Ah-ha
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
And you can tell the way that homie spit
That, nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips
Nigga, I'm from New York, New York
I got a semi-automatic that spits
Next time if you talk (ah-ha)
And this is how we do
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
New York Lyrics as written by Jason Phillips Andre Lyon
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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