Nas - N.Y. State of Mind, Pt. 2 (Lyrics)

Nas - N.Y. State of Mind, Pt. 2 (Lyrics)

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Lyrics:

Uhh... yo (New York, New York...) What up? What up? (New York, New York...) It's time, man (Word? It's time?) Straight up (It's time, man) Aight, set that shit off (Set it off then, nigga) Set it off (Set if off)

Broken glass in the hallway, blood-stained floors Neighbors look at every bag you bring through your doors Lock the top lock, Momma should've cuffed me to the radiator – why not? It might've saved me later from my block N.Y. cops, hookers crawlin' off the stroll Coughin', stitches in they head, stinkin' and I dread thinkin' they be snitchin' But who else could it be? Shook of D's Unmarked vans, parked in the dark NARC's — where's your heart? Hustlers starve, they bust a U-ey, I jog To my building, come out later wearin' camouflage See the sergeant and the captain strangle men; niggas gaspin' for air 'Til they move no more and just stare With dead eyes; tired of riots, shit is quiet Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimey crews Overcrowded cribs, uncles home from bids, sisters pregnant Fathers on drugs, moms is smokin', beds is piss-infested Had eight partners growin' up, eight turned to seven Seven turned to six niggas, got two in Heaven Six of us holdin' it, now it's five, rollin' thick The sixth one's parole flipped, five niggas went to four quick When he went O.T., college life, converted into gangbangin' Four niggas still hangin', years pass and slang changing Three of us now, fourth nigga ain't around We all thought he was real, he did the snake shit Fake shit, beat his ass down Yo, his mouth could've got us all wasted, what a fuckin' clown All I've got left in the end is two of my best friends And we all goin' out to the death for these ends! What?!

New York, New York... ("New York State of Mind") New York, New York... ("New York State of Mind")

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 (Aight?!) You know what I mean? New York state of mind, baby (Oh, yeah!) Check it out (Yeah!)

I'm at the gamblin' spot, my hands on a knot New York Yankee cap cover my eyes, stand in one spot I take a nigga dough, send him home to his shoe box "You lost that, nigga, I'll put your dollar in the jukebox" Hear my favorite song, all these niggas sing along All the cigarette smoke's cloggin' my lungs, hoodrats flashin' they tongue Young thugs blastin' they gun, we got reputations Bitches and niggas, both on parole or probation Shit is sick, niggas got gats, army fatigues I got my eyes glued on whoever walk in or leave 'Cause I ain't playin', niggas'll run up in here and shoot up this shit Stick your ass up, niggas'll find the loot in your kicks Bunch of triple-cross niggas, just New York niggas Lift you off your feet when they was just talkin' with you Some of these dudes, the Feds be on 'em, you knew 'em for years Be the type, when you walk in a pub, they offer you beers That ain't gangsta, niggas is up North with tatted tears Your name's on the affidavit — you ratted, kid Faggot-ass niggas that be scared to do they bids Fuck you! We run you outta N.Y., you can't live Got your quiet niggas that relocated down South Comin' back to floss, then you got the jealous loudmouths All of a sudden, we got Crips and Bloods D.T.'s runnin' 'round, quick to split your mug It's easy to score, but it's hard to get the shit off Niggas fightin' over hundred sales, jump in the car and drive off When the fiend come around the block, happy as hell Niggas mad 'cause they ain't get a piece of that sale Cutthroat connivers, universal ghetto survivors Go to any hood that's live and make it liver A lot of niggas schemin' — some real, some niggas frontin' But I'm a big dreamer, so watch me come up with somethin'

New York, New York... New York, New York...

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