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"N.Y. State of Mind" |
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Yeah, yeah |
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Ayo, black, it's time, word (Word, it's time, man) |
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It's time, man (Aight, man, begin) |
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Straight out the fucking dungeons of rap |
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Where fake niggas 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 of pain |
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I'm like Scarface sniffin' cocaine |
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Holding an M16, see with the pen I'm extreme, now |
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Bullet holes 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, sitting bent up in the stairway |
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Or either on the corner betting Grants with the cee-lo champs |
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Laughing at baseheads tryna sell some broken amps |
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G-packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit |
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Reminiscing about the last time the Task Force flipped |
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Niggas be running 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-10 was 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' niggas, 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 full of children probably couldn't see as high as I be |
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(So what you sayin'?) It's like the game ain't the same |
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Got younger niggas pulling the triggers bringing fame to their 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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45's and gauges, Macs, in fact |
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Same niggas will catch you back-to-back, snatching your cracks in black |
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There was a snitch on the block getting niggas knocked |
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So hold your stash 'til the coke price drop |
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I know this crackhead who said she's got to smoke nice rock |
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And if it's good, she'll bring you customers in measuring pots |
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But yo, you gotta slide on a vacation, inside information |
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Keeps large niggas erasin' and their 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 mind |
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New York state of mind |
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New York state of mind |
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New York state of mind |
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Be having dreams that I'm a gangsta, drinking Moets, holding Tecs |
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Making sure the cash came correct, then I stepped |
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Investments in stocks, sewing up the blocks to sell rocks |
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Winning 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 & Wesson, I have niggas undressin' |
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Thinking of cash flow, buddha and shelter |
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Whenever frustrated, I'm a hijack Delta |
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In the PJ'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 living 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, holmes |
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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, blaming 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 dykes |
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I've taken rappers to a new plateau, through rap slow |
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My rhymin' is a vitamin held 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 villains 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'm an addict for sneakers, 20's of buddha 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 mind |
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New York state of mind |
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New York state of mind |
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New York state of mind |
