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

Broken glass in the hallway, floors
Neighbors, look at bag you bring 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 they be snitchin
But who else, could it be, shook at these, unmarked
Parked in the dark, NARC's, where's your
Hustlers starve, bust a U-ey, I jog
To my building, come out later camouflage
See the sergeant and the captain, men
Niggas gaspin for air, til they no more and just stare
With dead eyes, of riots, shit is quiet
Simple-minded fools infiltrate grimy
Overcrowded cribs, uncles from bids, sister's pregnant
Father's on drugs, moms is smokin, beds is
Had eight partners growin up, turned to seven
Seven to six niggas, got two in heaven
Six of us, it, now it's five rollin thick
The one's parole flipped, five niggas, went to four quick
When he O.T., college life, converted into gangbangin
Four niggas still hangin, passin and slang changin
Three of us now, fourth nigga 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 friends
And we all goin out, to the for these ends, WHAT?

New York, New York (New state of mind)

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

I'm at the, gamblin spot, my on a knot
New Yankee 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 smoke's cloggin my lungs, hoodrats flashin they tongue
Young thugs blastin they gun, we got
Bitches and niggas on parole or probation
is sick, niggas got gats, army fatigues
I got my glued on, whoever walk in or leave
Cause I ain't playin, niggas'll run up in and shoot up this shit
yo' ass up, niggas'll find the loot in your kicks
Bunch of triple-cross niggas, New York niggas
Lift you off your when they was just talkin with you
Some of these dudes the 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 with tatted tears
Your on the affadavit, you ratted kid
niggas that be scared to do they bids
Fuck you, we run you out of N.Y, you can't
Got your niggas, that relocated down South
Comin back to floss, 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 it's to get the shit off
fightin over hundred sales, jump in the car and drive off
When the fiend come around the block, happy as
Niggas, mad they ain't get a piece 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 me come up with somethin

New York, New
New York, New