A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

NAS lyrics : "N.Y. State Of Mind"

[Intro: Nas]

Yeah yeah, aiyyo black it's time (word?)

(Word, it's time ^!$$%?)
Yeah, it's time man (aight ^!$$%, begin)
Yeah, straight out the $#&@in dungeons of rap

Where fake ^!$$%z don't make it back
I don't know how to start this %#@!, yo, now


[Verse One: Nas]

Rappers I monkey flip em with the funky rhythm I be kickin

Musician, inflictin composition
of pain I'm like Scarface sniffin cocaine
Holdin a M-16, see with the pen I'm extreme, now

Bulletholes left in my peepholes
I'm suited up in street clothes
Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes

Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay
I keep some E&J, sittin bent up in the stairway
Or either on the corner bettin Grants with the celo champs

Laughin at baseheads, tryin to sell some broken amps
G-Packs get off quick, forever ^!$$%z talk %#@!
Remeniscing about the last time the Task Force flipped

^!$$%z be runnin through the block shootin
Time to start the revolution, catch a body head for Houston
Once they caught us off guard, the Mac-10 was in the grass and

I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an $$#assin
Pick the Mac up, told brothers, "Back up," the Mac spit
Lead was hittin ^!$$%z one ran, I made him backflip

Heard a few chicks scream my arm shook, couldn't look
Gave another squeeze heard it click yo, my %#@! is stuck
Try to @@#! it, it wouldn't shoot now I'm in danger

Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber
So now I'm jetting to the building lobby
and it was filled with children probably couldn't see as high as I be

(So whatchu sayin?) It's like the game ain't the same
Got younger ^!$$%z pullin the triggers bringing fame to they name
and claim some corners, crews without guns are goners

In broad daylight, stickup kids, they run up on us
Fo'-fives and gauges, Macs in fact
Same ^!$$%z'll catch a back to back, snatchin yo' cracks in black

There was a snitch on the block gettin ^!$$%z knocked
So hold your stash until the !@%!e price drop
I know this crackhead, who said she gotta smoke nice rock

And if it's good she'll bring ya customers in measuring pots, but yo
You gotta slide on a vacation
Inside information keeps large ^!$$%z erasin and they wives basin

It drops deep as it does in my breath
I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death
Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined

I think of crime when I'm in a New York state of mind

["New York state of mine" --> Rakim (repeat 4X)]


[Verse Two: Nas]


Be havin dreams that I'ma gangster -- drinkin Moets, holdin Tecs
Makin sure the cash came correct then I stepped
Investments in stocks, sewein up the blocks

to sell rocks, winnin gunfights with mega cops
But just a ^!$$%, walking with his finger on the trigger
Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger

I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin
Give me a Smith and Wessun I'll have ^!$$%z undressin
Thinkin of cash flow, buddah and shelter

Whenever frustrated I'ma hijack Delta
In the P.J.'s, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays
Young (*##$es is grazed each block is like a maze

full of black rats trapped, plus the Island is packed
From what I hear in all the stories when my peoples come back, black
I'm livin where the nights is jet black

The fiends fight to get crack I just max, I dream I can sit back
and lamp like Capone, with drug scripts sewn
Or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes

I got so many rhymes I don't think I'm too sane
Life is parallel to Hell but I must maintain
and be prosperous, though we live dangerous
cops could just arrest me, blamin us, we're held like hostages
It's only right that I was born to use mics

and the stuff that I write, is even tougher than dice
I'm takin rappers to a new plateau, through rap slow
My rhymin is a vitamin, Hell without a capsule
The smooth criminal on beat breaks
Never put me in your box if your %#@! eats tapes

The city never sleeps, full of villians and creeps
That's where I learned to do my hustle had to scuffle with freaks
I'ma addict for sneakers, twenties of buddah and (*##$es with beepers
In the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya
Inhale deep like the words of my breath

I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death
I lay puzzle as I backtrack to earlier times
Nothing's equivalent, to the new york state of mind

["New York state of mind" --> Rakim (repeat 4X)]

["Nasty Nas" --> cut and scratched 8X]

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