Nas - N.Y. state of mind

Yeah, yeah,
Ayo, Black, it's time, word,
It's time, man,
Yeah, straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap,
Where fake niggas don't make it back,
I don't know how to start this shit, yo... now.


Rappers, I monkey flip 'em with the funky rhythm I be kickin',
Musician inflictin' composition of pain,
I'm like Scarface sniffin' cocaine,
Holdin' an M16, see with the pen I'm extreme – now,
Bullet holes left in my peepholes, I'm suited up in street clothes,
Hand me a 9 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 cee-lo champs,
Laughin' at baseheads tryna sell some broken amps,
G-packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit,
Reminiscin' about the last time the task force flipped,
Niggas 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 assassin,
Picked the MAC up, told brothers "Back up!" — the MAC spit,
Lead was hittin' niggas, 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 shit is stuck!",
Try to cock 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 jettin' to the building lobby,
And it was full of children, prob'ly couldn't see as high as I be,
It's like the game ain't the same,
Got younger niggas pullin' the triggers, bringin' fame to their name,
And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners,
In broad daylight, stick-up kids, they run up on us,
45's and gauges, MAC's in fact,
Same niggas will catch you back-to-back,
Snatchin' your cracks in black,
There was a snitch on the block gettin' niggas knocked,
So hold your stash 'til the coke price drop,
I know this crackhead who said she got to smoke nice rock,
And if it's good, she'll bring you customers in measuring pots,
But yo, you gotta slide on a vacation,
Inside information keeps large niggas erasin' and their 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.


[Hook]
New York state of mind,
New York state of mind,
New York state of mind,
New York state of mind.


Be havin' dreams that I'm a gangsta,
Drinkin' Moëts, holdin' TEC's,
Makin' sure the cash came correct, then I stepped,
Investments in stocks, sewin' up the blocks to sell rocks,
Winnin' gunfights with mega-cops,
But just a nigga walkin' 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 & Wesson, I have niggas undressin',
Thinkin' of cash flow, buddha and shelter,
Whenever frustrated, I'm a hijack Delta,
In the PJ's, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays,
Young bitches 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, holmes,
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 dykes,
I've taken rappers to a new plateau,
Through rap slow, my rhymin' is a vitamin held without a capsule,
The smooth criminal on beat breaks,
Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes,
The city never sleeps, full of villains and creeps,
That's where I learned to do my hustle, had to scuffle with freaks,
I'm a addict for sneakers,
20's of Buddha and bitches 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.


[Hook]
New York state of mind,
New York state of mind,
New York state of mind,
New York state of mind.