Producer : DJ Premier/Nas
Lyrics : Christopher Martin/Nasir Jones
Music : Christopher Martin/Nasir Jones
Yeah  yeah,aiyyo  black  it's  time （word?）
(Word, it's time nigga?)
Yeah, it's time man (aight b***h, begin)
Yeah, straight out the ****ing dungeons of rap
Where fake niggas don't make it back
I don't know how to start this shit, yo, now
Rappers  I  monkey  flip  em  with  the  funky  rhythm  I  be  kickin
Musician,inflictin  composition
of pain I'm like Scarface sniffing c*****e
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 niggas talk shit
Remeniscing  about  the  last  time  the  Task  Force  flipped
Niggas be running through the block shooting
Time  to  start  the  revolution,catch  a  body  head  for  Houston
Once  they  caught  us  off  guard,the  Mac-10was  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 hitting niggas 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  c**k  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 young niggas pulling 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 niggas'll catch a back to back, snatchin' yo'cracks in black
There was a snitch on the block getting niggas 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 niggas 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  mind
New  York  state  of  mind
New  York  state  of  mind
New  York  state  of  mind
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 niggas 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 niggas 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 held  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 b*****s 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  mine
New  York  state  of  mine
New  York  state  of  mine
New  York  state  of  mind
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