[Nas]
Uhh
Yo, yo-yo, yall
Whattup? Whattup
Its time man
(Word, its time?)
Straight up, its time man
Aight, set that shit off
(Set it off then nigga, set it off)
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 mightve 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 -- NARCs, wheres your heart?
Hustlers starve; they 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 air; til 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, 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 niggaz, got two in heaven
Six of us, holdin it, now its five rollin thick
The sixth ones parole flipped; five 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 aint around
We all thought he was real -- he did the snake shit
Fake shit -- beat his ass down, yo his mouth
Couldve 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?
New York, New York
("New York state of mind" -> Rakim)
New York, New York
("New York state of mind" -> Rakim)
%09*repeat while Nas is talking*
%09You heard about it, you see about it
%09You read about it, its in your papers
%09Its in your daily news
("Get money!")
%09New York chronicles, every day
%09The crime rate, the murder rate
%09The money rate, the paper chase, youknowhatImean?
%09New York state of mind baby, check it out
[Nas]
Im 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 ciggarette smokes 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 aint playin, niggazll run up in here and shoot up this shit
Stick yo ass up, niggazll 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 aint gangsta, niggaz is up North with tatted tears
Your names 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 cant 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, its ea-sy to score
But its 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 aint get a piece of that sale
Cutthroat connivers, universal, ghetto survivors
Go to any hood thats live and make it liver
A lot of niggaz scheamin, some real, some niggaz frontin
But Im a big dreamer, so watch me come up with somethin
New York, New York
New York, New York
Writer(s): Eric Barrier, William Griffin, Nasir Jones, Chris E. Martin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com