Nas Lyrics

Album: Unknown

N.Y. State Of Mind(Ft.Rakim) Lyrics

Intro: Nas 

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

(Word, it's time nigga?) 

Yeah, it's time man (aight 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 

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 niggaz talk shit 

Remeniscing 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 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 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 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 nigga, 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 niggaz 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 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'ma 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" --] Rakim *repeat 4X*) 

("Nasty Nas" --] cut and scratched 8X)