Luyện nghe bài hát N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II

Broken glass in the hallway, floors
Neighbors, at every bag you bring through your doors
Lock the top lock, momma shoulda cuffed me to the
Why not? It might've later from my block
N.Y. cops, hookers crawlin off the stroll,
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, bust a U-ey, I jog
To my building, come out later wearin
See the sergeant and the captain, men
Niggas for air, til they move no more and just stare
dead eyes, tired of riots, shit is quiet
Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimy
Overcrowded cribs, uncles home bids, sister's pregnant
Father's on drugs, moms is smokin, beds is
Had partners growin up, eight turned to seven
Seven turned to six niggas, got two in
Six of us, holdin it, now five rollin thick
The one's parole flipped, five niggas, went to four quick
When he O.T., college life, converted into gangbangin
Four still hangin, years passin and slang changin
Three of us now, fourth nigga ain't
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 in the end is two of my best friends
And we all goin out, to the death for these ends,

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 of mind baby, check it out

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

New York, New
New York, New