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

Broken glass in the hallway, bloodstained
Neighbors, look at bag you bring through your doors
Lock the top lock, shoulda cuffed me to the radiator
Why not? It might've saved later from my
N.Y. cops, hookers off the stroll, coughin
Stitches in they head, stinkin and I thinkin they be snitchin
But who else, it be, shook at these, unmarked vans
Parked in the dark, NARC's, where's your
Hustlers starve, they a U-ey, I jog
To my building, out later wearin camouflage
See the sergeant and the captain, men
gaspin for air, til they move no more and just stare
With eyes, tired of riots, shit is quiet
Simple-minded infiltrate grimy crews
cribs, uncles home from bids, sister's pregnant
Father's on drugs, moms is smokin, is piss-infested
Had eight partners growin up, turned to seven
turned to six niggas, got two in heaven
Six of us, holdin it, now it's five thick
The one's parole flipped, five niggas, went to four quick
When he went O.T., life, converted into gangbangin
Four still hangin, years passin and slang changin
Three of us now, fourth ain't around
We all thought he was real, he did the snake
Fake shit, his ass down, yo his mouth
Could've got us all wasted, what a fuckin
All I got left in the end is two of my best
And we all goin out, to the death for ends, WHAT?

New York, New (New York state of mind)

You about it, you see about it
You about it, it's in your papers
in your daily news ("Get money!")
New chronicles, every 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, spot, my hands on a knot
New Yankee cap cover my eyes, stand in one spot
I take a nigga dough, him home to a shoebox
You that nigga I put your dollar in the jukebox
Hear my song, all these niggas sing along
All the smoke's cloggin my lungs, hoodrats flashin they tongue
Young thugs blastin gun, we got reputations
Bitches and niggas on parole or probation
Shit is sick, niggas got gats, fatigues
I got my glued on, whoever walk in or leave
Cause I playin, niggas'll run up in here and shoot up this shit
Stick yo' ass up, niggas'll find the in your kicks
Bunch of triple-cross niggas, just New York
Lift you off feet when they was just talkin with you
Some of these dudes the Feds be on em, you em for years
Be the type when you walk in a pub, they you beers
That gangsta, niggas is up North with tatted tears
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 your quiet niggas, relocated down South
Comin back to floss, then you got the loudmouths
All of a sudden we got and Bloods, D.T.'s
Runnin round to split your mug, it's ea-sy to score
But it's hard to get the 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 piece of sale
Cutthroat connivers, universal, ghetto
Go to any hood that's and make it liver
A lot of niggas scheamin, some real, some frontin
But I'm a big dreamer, so me come up with somethin