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NAS

N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II

  hip-hop  rap  hip hop  east coast rap  new york
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Текст песни NAS - N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II

NAS - N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II слова песни



Текст песни NAS - N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II




[Nas]UhhYo, yo-yo, y'allWhattup? WhattupIt's time man (Word, it's time?)Straight up, it's time manAight, set that shit off(Set it off then nigga, set it off)( )Broken glass in the hallway, bloodstained floorsNeighbors, look at every bag you bring through your doorsLock the top lock, momma shoulda cuffed me to the radiatorWhy not? It might've saved later from my blockN.Y. cops, hookers crawlin off the stroll, coughinstitches in they head, stinkin and I dread thinkin they be snitchinBut who else, could it be, shook at these, unmarked vansParked in the dark -- NARC's, where's your heart?Hustlers starve; they bust a U-e I jogto my building -- come out later wearin camouflageSee the sergeant and the captain -- strangle menNiggaz gaspin for air; til they move no more and just starewith dead eyes -- tired of riots, shit is quietSimple-minded fools infiltrate grimy crewsOvercrowded cribs, uncles home from bids, sister's pregnantfather's on drugs, moms is smokin, beds is piss-infestedHad eight partners growin up, eight turned to sevenSeven turned to six niggaz, got two in heavenSix of us, holdin it, now it's five rollin thickThe sixth one's parole flipped; five niggaz, went to fo' quickwhen he went O.T., college life, converted into gangbanginFour niggaz still hangin, years passed and slang changinThree of us now, fourth nigga ain't aroundWe all thought he was real -- he did the snake shitFake shit -- beat his ass down, yo his mouthcould've got us all wasted, what a fuckin clownAll I got left in the end is two of my best friendsAnd we all goin out, to the death for these ends, WHAT?New York, New York (";New York state of mind"; -> Rakim)New York, New York (";New York state of mind"; -> Rakim) *repeat while Nas is talking* You heard about it, you see about it You read about it, it's in your papers It's in your daily news (";Get money!";) New York chronicles, every day The crime rate, the murder rate The money rate, the paper chase, youknowhatImean? New York state of mind baby, check it out[Nas]I'm at the, gamblin spot, my hands on a knotNew York Yankee cap cover my eyes, stand in one spotI take a nigga dough, send him home, to a shoeboxYou lost that nigga I put your dollar in the jukeboxHear my favorite song, all these niggaz sing alongAll the ciggarette smoke's cloggin my lungs, hoodrats flashin they tongueYoung thugs blastin they gun, we got reputationsBitches and niggaz both on parole or probationShit is sick, niggaz got gats, army fatiguesI got my eyes glued on, whoever walk in the lead




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