N.y. State Of Mind, Pt. 2 Lyrics - Original Album Classics - Nas

Uhh 

Yo, yo-yo, y'all 

Whattup? Whattup 

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) 

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Broken glass in the hallway, bloodstained floors 

Neighbors, look at every bag you bring through your doors 

Lock the top lock, momma shoulda cuffed me to the radiator 

Why not? It might've saved 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 at these, unmarked vans 

Parked in the dark -- NARC's, where's your heart? 

Hustlers starvethey bust a U-e I jog 

To my building -- come out later wearin camouflage 

See the sergeant and the captain -- strangle men 

Niggaz gaspin for airtil they move no more and just stare 

With dead eyes -- tired of riots, shit is quiet 

Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimy crews 

Overcrowded cribs, uncles home from bids, sister's pregnant 

Father's on drugs, moms is smokin, beds is piss-infested 

Had eight partners growin up, eight turned to seven 

Seven turned to six niggaz, got two in heaven 

Six of us, holdin it, now it's five rollin thick 

The sixth one's parole flippedfive niggaz, went to fo' quick 

When he went O.T., college life, converted into gangbangin 

Four niggaz still hangin, years passed and slang changin 

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 got left in the end is two of my best friends 

And we all goin out, to the death for these ends, WHAT? 

Photos 

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 

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 a shoebox 

You lost that nigga I put your dollar in the jukebox 

Hear my favorite song, all these niggaz sing along 

All the cigarette smoke's cloggin my lungs, hoodrats flashin they tongue 

Young thugs blastin they gun, we got reputations 

Bitches and niggaz both on parole or probation 

Shit is sick, niggaz got gats, army fatigues 

I got my eyes glued on, whoever walk in the lead 

Cause I ain't playin, niggaz'll run up in here and shoot up this shit 

Stick yo' ass up, niggaz'll find the loot in your kicks 

Bunch of triple-cross niggaz, just New York niggaz 

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, niggaz is up North with tatted tears 

Your name's on the affadavit, you ratted kid 

Faggot-ass niggaz that be scared to do they bids 

Fuck you, we run you out of N.Y, you can't live 

Got your quiet niggaz, 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 ea-sy to score 

But it's hard to get the shit off 

Niggaz fightin over hundred sales, jump in the car and drive off 

When the fiend come around the block, happy as hell 

Niggaz, 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 niggaz scheamin, some real, some niggaz frontin 

But I'm a big dreamer, so watch me come up with somethin 

New York, New York 

New York, New York