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

Broken glass in the hallway, floors
Neighbors, look at every bag you through your doors
Lock the top lock, momma shoulda cuffed me to the
Why not? It might've saved later from my
N.Y. cops, hookers off the stroll, coughin
Stitches in they head, stinkin and I dread thinkin they be
But who else, could it be, shook at these, vans
Parked in the dark, NARC's, your heart?
Hustlers starve, they a U-ey, I jog
To my building, come out later camouflage
See the sergeant and the captain, men
Niggas gaspin for air, til move no more and just stare
With dead eyes, of riots, shit is quiet
Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimy
Overcrowded cribs, uncles home from bids, pregnant
Father's on drugs, is smokin, beds is piss-infested
Had partners growin up, eight turned to seven
turned to six niggas, got two in heaven
Six of us, holdin it, now it's rollin thick
The sixth one's parole flipped, five niggas, went to quick
he went O.T., college life, converted into gangbangin
Four 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
Fake shit, beat his ass down, yo his
Could've got us all wasted, what a fuckin
All I got in the end is two of my best friends
And we all goin out, to the for these ends, WHAT?

New York, New (New York state of mind)

You heard it, you see about it
You read about it, in your 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, gamblin spot, my hands on a
New York Yankee cap my eyes, stand in one spot
I take a nigga dough, send him home to a
You lost nigga I put your dollar in the jukebox
Hear my favorite song, all these niggas along
All the cigarette smoke's cloggin my lungs, hoodrats they tongue
Young thugs blastin gun, we got reputations
and niggas both on parole or probation
Shit is sick, niggas got gats, fatigues
I got my eyes glued on, whoever walk in or
Cause I ain't playin, niggas'll run up in and shoot up this shit
Stick yo' ass up, find the loot in your kicks
of triple-cross niggas, just New York niggas
Lift you off your feet when 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 offer you
That ain't gangsta, niggas is up with tatted tears
Your name's on the affadavit, you kid
Faggot-ass niggas be scared to do they bids
you, we run you out of N.Y, you can't live
Got your quiet niggas, that 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 your mug, it's ea-sy to score
But hard to get the shit off
Niggas fightin over hundred sales, jump in the car and off
When the fiend come the block, happy as hell
Niggas, mad cause ain't get a piece of that sale
Cutthroat connivers, universal, survivors
Go to any hood live and make it liver
A lot of niggas scheamin, some real, some niggas
But I'm a big dreamer, so watch me come up somethin

New York, New
New York, New