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[ti:] |
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[ar:] |
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[al:] |
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"N.Y. State of Mind Pt. II" |
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Uhh Yo, yo-yo, y'all |
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Whattup? Whattup |
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It's time man (Word, it's time?) |
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Straight up, it's time man |
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Aight, set that shit off |
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(Set it off then nigga, set it off) |
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Broken glass in the hallway, bloodstained floors |
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Neighbors, look at every bag you bring through your doors |
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Lock the top lock, momma shoulda cuffed me to the radiator |
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Why not? It might've saved later from my block |
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N.Y. cops, hookers crawlin off the stroll, coughin |
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Stitches in they head, stinkin and I dread thinkin they be snitchin |
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But who else, could it be, shook at these, unmarked vans |
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Parked in the dark -- NARC's, where's your heart? |
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Hustlers starve; they bust a U-ey, I jog |
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To my building -- come out later wearin camouflage |
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See the sergeant and the captain -- strangle men |
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Niggas gaspin for air; til they move no more and just stare |
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With dead eyes -- tired of riots, shit is quiet |
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Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimy crews |
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Overcrowded cribs, uncles home from bids, sister's pregnant |
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Father's on drugs, moms is smokin, beds is piss-infested |
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Had eight partners growin up, eight turned to seven |
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Seven turned to six niggas, got two in heaven |
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Six of us, holdin it, now it's five rollin thick |
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The sixth one's parole flipped; five niggas, went to four quick |
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When he went O.T., college life, converted into gangbangin |
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Four niggas still hangin, years passin and slang changin |
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Three of us now, fourth nigga ain't around |
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We all thought he was real -- he did the snake shit |
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Fake shit -- beat his ass down, yo his mouth |
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Could've got us all wasted, what a fuckin clown |
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All I got left in the end is two of my best friends |
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And we all goin out, to the death for these ends, WHAT? |
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New York, New York (New York state of mind) |
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New York, New York (New York state of mind) |
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You heard about it, you see about it |
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You read about it, it's in your papers |
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It's in your daily news ("Get money!") |
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New York chronicles, every day |
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The crime rate, the murder rate |
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The money rate, the paper chase, you know what I mean? |
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New York state of mind baby, check it out |
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I'm at the, gamblin spot, my hands on a knot |
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New York Yankee cap cover my eyes, stand in one spot |
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I take a nigga dough, send him home to a shoebox |
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You lost that nigga I put your dollar in the jukebox |
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Hear my favorite song, all these niggas sing along |
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All the cigarette smoke's cloggin my lungs, hoodrats flashin they tongue |
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Young thugs blastin they gun, we got reputations |
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Bitches and niggas both on parole or probation |
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Shit is sick, niggas got gats, army fatigues |
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I got my eyes glued on, whoever walk in or leave |
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Cause I ain't playin, niggas'll run up in here and shoot up this shit |
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Stick yo' ass up, niggas'll find the loot in your kicks |
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Bunch of triple-cross niggas, just New York niggas |
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Lift you off your feet when they was just talkin with you |
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Some of these dudes the Feds be on em, you knew em for years |
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Be the type when you walk in a pub, they offer you beers |
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That ain't gangsta, niggas is up North with tatted tears |
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Your name's on the affadavit, you ratted kid |
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Faggot-ass niggas that be scared to do they bids |
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Fuck you, we run you out of N.Y, you can't live |
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Got your quiet niggas, that relocated down South |
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Comin back to floss, then you got the jealous loudmouths |
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All of a sudden we got Crips and Bloods, D.T.'s |
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Runnin round quick to split your mug, it's ea-sy to score |
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But it's hard to get the shit off |
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Niggas fightin over hundred sales, jump in the car and drive off |
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When the fiend come around the block, happy as hell |
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Niggas, mad cause they ain't get a piece of that sale |
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Cutthroat connivers, universal, ghetto survivors |
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Go to any hood that's live and make it liver |
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A lot of niggas scheamin, some real, some niggas frontin |
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But I'm a big dreamer, so watch me come up with somethin |
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New York, New York |
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New York, New York |
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by OG |
