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Testi Nas - NY State of Mind
Testi-musica-canzoni.it > Testi lettera N > Nas > Illmatic - NY State of MindIntro: Nas  
  
 Yeah yeah  aiyyo black it's time (word?)  
 (Word  it's time nigga?)  
 Yeah  it's time man (aight nigga  begin)  
 Yeah  straight out the fuckin dungeons of rap  
 Where fake niggaz don't make it back  
 I don't know how to start this shit  yo  now  
  
 Verse One: Nas  
  
 Rappers I monkey flip em with the funky rhythm I be kickin  
 Musician  inflictin composition  
 of pain I'm like Scarface sniffin cocaine  
 Holdin a M-16, see with the pen I'm extreme, now  
 Bulletholes left in my peepholes  
 I'm suited up in street clothes  
 Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes  
 Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay  
 I keep some E&J, sittin bent up in the stairway  
 Or either on the corner bettin Grants with the celo champs  
 Laughin at baseheads, tryin to sell some broken amps  
 G-Packs get off quick, forever niggaz talk shit  
 Remeniscing about the last time the Task Force flipped  
 Niggaz be runnin through the block shootin  
 Time to start the revolution, catch a body head for Houston  
 Once they caught us off guard, the Mac-10 was in the grass and  
 I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an assassin  
 Pick the Mac up, told brothers, "Back up," the Mac spit  
 Lead was hittin niggaz one ran, I made him backflip  
 Heard a few chicks scream my arm shook, couldn't look  
 Gave another squeeze heard it click yo, my shit is stuck  
 Try to cock it, it wouldn't shoot now I'm in danger  
 Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber  
 So now I'm jetting to the building lobby  
 and it was filled with children probably couldn't see as high as I be  
 (So whatchu sayin?) It's like the game ain't the same  
 Got younger niggaz pullin the triggers bringing fame to they name  
 and claim some corners, crews without guns are goners  
 In broad daylight, stickup kids, they run up on us  
 Fo'-fives and gauges, Macs in fact  
 Same niggaz'll catch a back to back, snatchin yo' cracks in black  
 There was a snitch on the block gettin niggaz knocked  
 So hold your stash until the coke price drop  
 I know this crackhead, who said she gotta smoke nice rock  
 And if it's good she'll bring ya customers in measuring pots, but yo  
 You gotta slide on a vacation  
 Inside information keeps large niggaz erasin and they wives basin  
 It drops deep as it does in my breath  
 I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death  
 Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined  
 I think of crime when I'm in a New York state of mind  
  
 ("New York state of mine" --> Rakim *repeat 4X*)  
  
 Verse Two: Nas  
  
 Be havin dreams that I'ma gangster -- drinkin Moets, holdin Tecs  
 Makin sure the cash came correct then I stepped  
 Investments in stocks, sewein up the blocks  
 to sell rocks, winnin gunfights with mega cops  
 But just a nigga, walking with his finger on the trigger  
 Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger  
 I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin  
 Give me a Smith and Wessun I'll have niggaz undressin  
 Thinkin of cash flow, buddah and shelter  
 Whenever frustrated I'ma hijack Delta  
 In the P.J.'s, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays  
 Young bitches is grazed each block is like a maze  
 full of black rats trapped, plus the Island is packed  
 From what I hear in all the stories when my peoples come back, black  
 I'm livin where the nights is jet black  
 The fiends fight to get crack I just max, I dream I can sit back  
 and lamp like Capone, with drug scripts sewn  
 Or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes  
 I got so many rhymes I don't think I'm too sane  
 Life is parallel to Hell but I must maintain  
 and be prosperous, though we live dangerous  
 cops could just arrest me, blamin us, we're held like hostages  
 It's only right that I was born to use mics  
 and the stuff that I write, is even tougher than dice  
 I'm takin rappers to a new plateau, through rap slow  
 My rhymin is a vitamin, Hell without a capsule  
 The smooth criminal on beat breaks  
 Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes  
 The city never sleeps, full of villians and creeps  
 That's where I learned to do my hustle had to scuffle with freaks  
 I'ma addict for sneakers, twenties of buddah and bitches with beepers  
 In the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya  
 Inhale deep like the words of my breath  
 I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death  
 I lay puzzle as I backtrack to earlier times  
 Nothing's equivalent, to the new york state of mind  
  
 ("New York state of mind" --> Rakim *repeat 4X*)  
 ("Nasty Nas" --> cut and scratched 8X
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