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    Intro: 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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