Luyện nghe bài hát N.y. State Of Mind Part Ii

Broken glass in the hallway, floors
Neighbors, look at every bag you bring your doors
Lock the top lock, momma cuffed me to the radiator
Why It might've saved later from my block
N.Y. cops, hookers crawlin off the stroll,
Stitches in head, stinkin and I dread thinkin they be snitchin
But who else, could it be, shook at these, vans
Parked in the dark, NARC's, where's your
Hustlers starve, bust a U-ey, I jog
To my building, come out later wearin
See the and the captain, strangle men
Niggas gaspin for air, til they move no and just stare
With dead eyes, tired of riots, shit is
fools infiltrate grimy crews
Overcrowded cribs, uncles home from bids, pregnant
Father's on drugs, is smokin, beds is piss-infested
Had eight partners growin up, turned to seven
Seven turned to six niggas, got two in
Six of us, holdin it, now five rollin thick
The sixth one's parole flipped, niggas, went to four quick
he went O.T., college life, converted into gangbangin
Four niggas still hangin, years passin and changin
Three of us now, fourth nigga around
We all thought he was real, he did the shit
Fake shit, beat his ass down, yo his
Could've got us all wasted, a fuckin clown
All I got left in the end is two of my friends
And we all goin out, to the death for ends, WHAT?

New York, New York (New state of mind)

You about it, you see about it
You about it, it's in your papers
It's in your news ("Get money!")
New York chronicles, day
The crime rate, the rate
The money rate, the paper chase, you know I mean?
New York state of mind baby, it out

I'm at the, gamblin spot, my on a knot
New Yankee cap cover my eyes, stand in one spot
I take a nigga dough, send him to a shoebox
You lost that I put your dollar in the jukebox
Hear my favorite song, all these niggas sing
All the cigarette cloggin my lungs, hoodrats flashin they tongue
Young thugs they gun, we got reputations
Bitches and niggas both on or probation
Shit is sick, got gats, army fatigues
I got my eyes on, whoever walk in or leave
Cause I ain't playin, run up in here and shoot up this shit
Stick yo' ass up, niggas'll find the loot in kicks
Bunch of triple-cross niggas, just New York
Lift you off your feet when was just talkin with you
Some of these dudes the Feds be on em, you knew em for
Be the when you walk in a pub, they offer you beers
That ain't gangsta, niggas is up North with tatted
Your on the affadavit, you ratted kid
Faggot-ass that be scared to do they bids
Fuck you, we run you out of N.Y, you can't
Got quiet niggas, that relocated down South
Comin to floss, then you got the jealous loudmouths
All of a sudden we got and Bloods, D.T.'s
Runnin round quick to split your mug, it's ea-sy to
But hard to get the shit off
Niggas fightin over hundred sales, jump in the car and off
When the fiend around the block, happy as hell
Niggas, mad cause they ain't get a of that sale
connivers, universal, ghetto survivors
Go to any hood that's live and make it
A lot of niggas scheamin, some real, some frontin
But I'm a big dreamer, so watch me come up with