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 Yeah yeah, aiyyo black it's time word 
Word, it's time nigga? 
Yeah, it's time man alright nigga, begin 
Yeah, straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap 
Where fake niggaz don't make it back 
I don't know how to start this shit, yo, now 
 
Rappers I monkey flip them 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 CeloChamps 
Laughin' at baseheads, tryin to sell some broken amps 
G-Packs get off quick, forever niggaz talk shit 
Remeniscin' about the last time the Task Force flipped 
Niggaz 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 
 
Pick the Mac up, told brothers, "Back up," the Mac spit 
Lead was hittin' niggaz 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 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 niggaz 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 niggaz'll catch a back to back, snatchin' yo' cracks in black 
There was a snitch on the block gettin' niggaz knocked 
So hold your stash until the coke 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 niggaz 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 mind 
New York state of mind 
New York state of mind 
New York state of mind 
 
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 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 and Wessun I'll have niggaz undressin' 
Thinkin' of cash flow,Buddah 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, 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 shit 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'm a addict for sneakers, twenties of Buddah 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 
 
New York state of mind 
New York state of mind 
New York state of mind 
New York state of mind 
 
Nasty Nas 
Nasty Nas 
Nasty Nas 
... 
  
            
 
HATA BİLDİR
 
 
		
        
        
        
         
         
         
         
        
        
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