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

Broken in the hallway, bloodstained floors
Neighbors, look at bag you bring through your doors
the top lock, momma shoulda cuffed me to the radiator
Why not? It might've saved later my block
N.Y. cops, crawlin off the stroll, coughin
Stitches in head, stinkin and I dread 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, come out wearin camouflage
See the sergeant and the captain, men
Niggas gaspin for air, til they no more and just stare
With dead eyes, tired of riots, is quiet
Simple-minded infiltrate grimy crews
Overcrowded cribs, home from bids, sister's pregnant
on drugs, moms is smokin, beds is piss-infested
Had eight partners growin up, eight to seven
Seven to six niggas, got two in heaven
Six of us, holdin it, now it's five rollin
The sixth one's flipped, five niggas, went to four quick
When he went O.T., college life, into gangbangin
niggas still hangin, years passin and slang changin
Three of us now, fourth ain't around
We all he was real, he did the snake shit
shit, beat his ass down, yo his mouth
Could've got us all wasted, what a clown
All I got left in the end is two of my best
And we all out, to the death for these ends, WHAT?

New York, New York (New York of mind)

You heard it, you see about it
You read about it, it's in papers
It's in your daily ("Get money!")
New chronicles, every day
The rate, the murder rate
The rate, the paper chase, you know what I mean?
New York state of baby, check it out

I'm at the, spot, my hands on a knot
New York Yankee cap cover my eyes, in one spot
I take a dough, send him home to a shoebox
You lost nigga I put your dollar in the jukebox
Hear my favorite song, all these niggas sing
All the cigarette smoke's my lungs, hoodrats flashin they tongue
Young thugs blastin gun, we got reputations
Bitches and both on parole or probation
Shit is sick, niggas got gats, army
I got my eyes glued on, 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 your
Bunch of niggas, just New York niggas
Lift you off your feet when they was talkin with you
of these dudes the Feds be on em, you knew em for years
Be the when you walk in a pub, they offer you beers
That ain't gangsta, niggas is up North with tears
Your name's on the affadavit, you kid
Faggot-ass niggas that be scared to do they
Fuck you, we run you out of N.Y, you can't
Got your quiet niggas, that down South
Comin back to floss, then you got the jealous
All of a we got Crips and Bloods, D.T.'s
Runnin round quick to your mug, it's ea-sy to score
But hard to get the shit off
Niggas fightin over hundred sales, in the car and drive off
When the fiend come 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 live and make it
A lot of scheamin, some real, some niggas frontin
But I'm a big dreamer, so watch me up with somethin