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作词 : Jones, Martin |
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Yeah yeah,aiyyo black it's time （word?） |
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（Word,it's time nigga?） |
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Yeah,it's time man （aight nigga,begin） |
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Yeah,straight out the fuckin dungeons of rap |
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Where fake niggaz don't make it back |
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I don't know how to start this shit,yo,now |
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Rappers I monkey flip em with the funky rhythm I be kickin |
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Musician,inflictin composition |
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of pain I'm like Scarface sniffin cocaine |
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Holdin a M-16,see with the pen I'm extreme,now |
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Bulletholes left in my peepholes |
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I'm suited up in street clothes |
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Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes |
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Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay |
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I keep some E&J,sittin bent up in the stairway |
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Or either on the corner bettin Grants with the celo champs |
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Laughin at baseheads,tryin to sell some broken amps |
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G-Packs get off quick,forever niggaz talk shit |
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Remeniscing about the last time the Task Force flipped |
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Niggaz be runnin through the block shootin |
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Time to start the revolution,catch a body head for Houston |
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Once they caught us off guard,the Mac-10was in the grass and |
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I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an assassin |
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Pick the Mac up,told brothers,"Back up,"the Mac spit |
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Lead was hittin niggaz one ran,I made him backflip |
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Heard a few chicks scream my arm shook,couldn't look |
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Gave another squeeze heard it click yo,my shit is stuck |
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Try to cock it,it wouldn't shoot now I'm in danger |
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Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber |
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So now I'm jetting to the building lobby |
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and it was filled with children probably couldn't see as high as I be |
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（So whatchu sayin?）It's like the game ain't the same |
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Got younger niggaz pullin the triggers bringing fame to they name |
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and claim some corners,crews without guns are goners |
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In broad daylight,stickup kids,they run up on us |
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Fo'-fives and gauges,Macs in fact |
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Same niggaz'll catch a back to back,snatchin yo'cracks in black |
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There was a snitch on the block gettin niggaz knocked |
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So hold your stash until the coke price drop |
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I know this crackhead,who said she gotta smoke nice rock |
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And if it's good she'll bring ya customers in measuring pots,but yo |
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You gotta slide on a vacation |
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Inside information keeps large niggaz erasin and they wives basin |
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It drops deep as it does in my breath |
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I never sleep,cause sleep is the cousin of death |
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Beyond the walls of intelligence,life is defined |
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I think of crime when I'm in a New York state of mind |
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New York state of mine |
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New York state of mine |
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New York state of mine |
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New York state of mine |
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Be havin dreams that I'ma gangster --drinkin Moets,holdin Tecs |
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Makin sure the cash came correct then I stepped |
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Investments in stocks,sewein up the blocks |
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to sell rocks,winnin gunfights with mega cops |
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But just a nigga,walking with his finger on the trigger |
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Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger |
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I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin |
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Give me a Smith and Wessun I'll have niggaz undressin |
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Thinkin of cash flow,buddah and shelter |
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Whenever frustrated I'ma hijack Delta |
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In the P.J.'s,my blend tape plays,bullets are strays |
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Young bitches is grazed each block is like a maze |
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full of black rats trapped,plus the Island is packed |
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From what I hear in all the stories when my peoples come back,black |
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I'm livin where the nights is jet black |
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The fiends fight to get crack I just max,I dream I can sit back |
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and lamp like Capone,with drug scripts sewn |
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Or the legal luxury life,rings flooded with stones,homes |
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I got so many rhymes I don't think I'm too sane |
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Life is parallel to Hell but I must maintain |
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and be prosperous,though we live dangerous |
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cops could just arrest me,blamin us,we're held like hostages |
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It's only right that I was born to use mics |
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and the stuff that I write,is even tougher than dice |
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I'm takin rappers to a new plateau,through rap slow |
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My rhymin is a vitamin,Hell without a capsule |
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The smooth criminal on beat breaks |
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Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes |
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The city never sleeps,full of villians and creeps |
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That's where I learned to do my hustle had to scuffle with freaks |
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I'ma addict for sneakers,twenties of buddah and bitches with beepers |
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In the streets I can greet ya,about blunts I teach ya |
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Inhale deep like the words of my breath |
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I never sleep,cause sleep is the cousin of death |
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I lay puzzle as I backtrack to earlier times |
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Nothing's equivalent,to the new york state of mind |
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New York state of mine |
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New York state of mine |
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New York state of mine |
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New York state of mind |
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NasNasty NasNasty NasNasty NasNasty NasNasty NasNasty NasNasty NasNasty |
