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grant schubert – nas’s “n.y. state of mind” كلمات اغاني

[produced by dj premier]

[intro]
straight out the f-cking dungeons of rap
where fake n-ggas don’t make it back
i don’t know how to start this sh-t, yo

[verse 1]
rappers, i monkey flip em with the funky rhythm
i be kicking, musician, inflictin’ composition
of pain i’m like scarface sniffin cocaine
holding an m-16, see with the pen i’m extreme, now
bullet holes 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, sitting bent up in the stairway
or either on the corner betting grants with the cee-lo champs
laughing at baseheads trying to sell some broken amps
g-packs get off quick, forever n-ggas talk sh-t
reminiscing about the last time the task force flipped
n-ggas be running 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 gr-ss and
i ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an -ss-ssin
pick the mac up, told brothers, “back up,” the mac spit
lead was hitting n-ggas, one ran, i made him backflip
heard a few chicks scream, my arm shook, couldn’t look
gave another squeeze, heard it cl!ck, “yo, my sh-t is stuck”
try to c-ck it, it wouldn’t shoot, now i’m in danger
finally pulled it back and saw 3 bullets caught up in the chamber
so now i’m jetting to the building lobby
and it was full of children probably couldn’t see as high as i be
(so what you saying?) it’s like the game ain’t the same
got younger n-ggas pulling the triggers, bringing fame to their name
and claim some corners, crews without guns are goners
in broad daylight, stickup kids: they run up on us
4-5’s and gauges, macs, in fact
same n-ggas will catch a back-to-back, sn-tching your cracks in black
there was a snitch on the block getting n-ggas knocked
so hold your stash ’til the c0ke price drop
i know this crackhead who said she’s 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 n-ggas 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

[verse 2]
be having dreams that i’m a gangsta; drinking moets, holding tecs
making sure the cash came correct, then i stepped
investments in stocks, sewing up the blocks to sell rocks
winning gunfights with mega-cops
but just a n-gga 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 wesson, i have n-ggas undressin’
thinking of cash flow, buddah and shelter
whenever frustrated, i’m a hijacked delta
in the p.j.’s, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays
young b-tches 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 living 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 h-ll but i must maintain
and be prosperous, though we live dangerous, cops could just
arrest me, blaming 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 dyk-s
i’m taking 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 sh-t 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 an addict for sneakers, 20’s of buddah and b-tches 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]

- grant schubert

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