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, crawlin off the stroll, coughin
Stitches in they head, and I dread thinkin they be snitchin
But who else, could it be, at these, unmarked vans
Parked in the dark, NARC's, your heart?
Hustlers starve, bust a U-ey, I jog
To my building, out later wearin camouflage
See the sergeant and the captain, men
Niggas gaspin for air, til they move no and just stare
With eyes, tired of riots, shit is quiet
Simple-minded infiltrate grimy crews
Overcrowded cribs, uncles home from bids, 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., college life, into gangbangin
Four niggas still hangin, passin and slang changin
Three of us now, fourth ain't around
We all thought he was real, he did the snake
Fake shit, beat his ass down, yo his
Could've got us all wasted, what a fuckin
All I got left in the end is two of my friends
And we all goin out, to the death for these ends,

New York, New York (New state of mind)

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

I'm at the, gamblin spot, my hands on a
New York cap cover my eyes, stand in one spot
I take a nigga dough, send him to a shoebox
You lost nigga I put your dollar in the jukebox
Hear my favorite song, all niggas sing along
All the cigarette smoke's cloggin my lungs, hoodrats they tongue
Young blastin 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 walk in or
Cause I ain't playin, niggas'll run up in and shoot up this shit
Stick yo' ass up, niggas'll find the loot in kicks
Bunch of niggas, just New York niggas
Lift you off your feet they 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, is up North with tatted tears
name's on the affadavit, you ratted kid
Faggot-ass niggas that be scared to do 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 jealous
All of a we got Crips and Bloods, D.T.'s
Runnin round quick to split your mug, ea-sy to score
But it's to get the shit off
Niggas fightin over hundred sales, jump in the car and off
When the come around the block, happy as hell
Niggas, mad cause they ain't get a piece of sale
Cutthroat connivers, universal, survivors
Go to any that's live and make it liver
A lot of niggas scheamin, some real, niggas frontin
But I'm a big dreamer, so me come up with somethin

New York, New
New York, New