N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II

N.Y. State Of Mind Pt. II easy guitar chords by Nas

N/A
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 4

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo
  • Em

  • F

  • Em

  • F

  • Verse 1
    Uh, yo 

    What 
    up? What 
    up? 

    It's time 
    man 
    (word, it's 
    time?) 

    Straight 
    up 
    (it's time, 
    man) 

    Aight, 
    set 
    that shit 
    off (set it 
    off then, 

    nigga) 

    Verse 2
    Set it 
    off 
    (set it off) 

    Broken glass 
    in the hallway, 

    bloodstained 
    floors 

    Neigh
    bors, 
    look 
    at every 
    bag 

    you bring 
    through your 
    door

    Lock 
    the top 
    lock, 

    momma 
    shoulda 
    cuffed 
    me to 
    the radiator 

    Why 
    not? 
    It might've 
    saved 

    me later 
    from 
    my 
    block 

    N.Y. 
    cops, 
    hookers 
    crawlin' 
    off 
    the stroll, 

    coughin' 

    Stitches 
    in 
    they head, 

    stinkin' 
    and 
    I dread 
    thinkin' 
    they be 
    snitchin' 

    But who else, 
    could 
    it be, 

    shook 
    at these, 
    unmarked 
    vans 

    Parked 
    in the dark, 

    NARC's, where's 
    your heart? 

    Hust
    lers 
    starve, 
    they bust 
    a U- 
    ey, I 
    jog 

    To 
    my building, 

    come 
    out later 
    wearin' 
    camou
    flage 

    See 
    the sergeant 
    and the captain, 

    strangle 
    men 

    Niggas 
    gaspin' 
    for air, 

    'til 
    they move 
    no more 
    and just stare 

    With dead 
    eyes, 
    tired 
    of riots, 

    shit 
    is quiet 

    Simple- 
    minded 
    fools 
    infiltrate 

    grimy 
    crews 

    Overcrowded 
    cribs, 
    uncles 
    home 
    from bids, 

    sister's 
    preg
    nant 

    Father's 
    on 
    drugs, 
    moms 
    is smokin', 

    beds 
    is piss- 
    infested 

    Had 
    eight 
    partners 
    growin' 
    up, 

    eight 
    turned 
    to 
    seven 

    Seven 
    turned 
    to six 
    niggas, 

    got 
    two 
    in heaven 

    Six 
    of us, 
    holdin' 
    it, 

    now 
    it's five 
    rollin' 
    thick 

    The sixth 
    one's 
    parole 
    flipped, 

    five 
    niggas, 
    went 
    to four 
    quick

    When 
    he went 
    O.T., 
    college 
    life, 

    converted 
    in
    to 
    gangbangin' 

    Four niggas 
    still 
    hangin', 

    years 
    passin' 
    an
    d slang 
    changin' 

    Three 
    of us 
    now, fourth 

    nigga 
    ain't 
    around 

    We 
    all thought 
    he was 
    real, 

    he did 
    the 
    snake 
    shit 

    Fake 
    shit, 
    beat 
    his ass 
    down 

    Yo, 
    his mouth 
    could've 
    got 
    us all 
    wasted, 

    what 
    a fuckin' 
    clown 

    All 
    I got 
    left 
    in the end 
    is 

    two of 
    my best 
    friends 

    And 
    we all 
    goin' 
    out, 

    to 
    the 
    death 
    for these 
    ends, 
    what? 

    Verse 3
    New York, 

    New 
    York (New York state 
    of mind) 

    New York, 
    New 
    York 
    (New York 

    state of 
    mind) 

    You heard about 
    it, 
    you 
    Verse 4
    see 
    about 
    it 

    You 
    read 
    about it, 
    it's 
    in your 
    papers 

    It's in your 
    daily 
    news 

    (get
    money) 

    New York 
    chronicles, 
    every 
    day 

    The crime 
    rate, 
    the murder 
    rate 

    The 
    money 
    rate, 
    the 
    pa
    per 
    chase, 

    you know 
    what I mean? 

    New York state 
    of mind 
    baby, 

    check it 
    out 

    Verse 5
    I'm at 
    the, 
    gamblin' 
    spot, 

    my hands 
    on a knot 

    New York 
    Yankee 
    cap 
    cover 
    my eyes, 

    stand 
    in one spot 

    I take 
    a nigga 
    dough, 

    send 
    him home 
    to 
    a shoebox 

    You 
    lost 
    that nigga 
    I put 

    your dollar 
    in 
    the jukebox 

    Hear 
    my favorite 
    song, 

    all 
    these niggas 
    sing 
    along 

    All 
    the cigar
    ette 
    smoke's 
    cloggin' 
    my lungs, 

    hoodrats 
    flashin' they tongue 

    Young 
    thugs 
    blastin' 
    they gun, 

    we 
    got repu
    tations 

    Bitches 
    and 
    niggas 
    both 

    on parole 
    or pro
    bation 

    Shit 
    is sick, 
    niggas 
    got 
    gats, 

    army fa
    tigues 

    I got 
    my 
    eyes 
    glued 
    on, 

    whoever 
    walk 
    in or leave 

    'Cause 
    ain't playin', 

    niggas'll run 
    up in here 
    and shoot 
    up this 
    shit 

    Stick 
    yo' 
    ass 
    up, 

    niggas'll find 
    the loot 
    in your kick

    Bunch 
    of triple- 
    cross 
    niggas, 

    just 
    New 
    York niggas 

    Lift 
    you 
    off your feet 
    when they 

    was just 
    talkin' 
    with 
    you 

    Some of 
    these dudes 
    the feds 
    be 
    on 'em, 

    you knew 
    'em for 
    years 

    Be 
    the type 
    when 
    you walk 
    in a pub, 

    they offer 
    you 
    beers 

    That 
    ain't gangsta, 

    niggas 
    is 
    up North 
    with tatted 
    tears 

    Your name's 
    on 
    the affidavit, 

    you rat
    ted kid 

    Faggot 
    ass 
    niggas 
    that 

    be scared 
    to do 
    they bids 

    Fuck 
    you, we run 
    you out 
    of 
    N.Y, 

    you can't 
    live 

    Got 
    your quiet 
    niggas, 

    that 
    relocated 
    down 
    South 

    Com
    in' back 
    to floss, 

    then you got 
    the jealous 
    loudmouths 

    All 
    of a sudden 
    we got 
    Crips 
    and Bloods, 

    D.T.'s 

    Runnin' 'round 
    quick 
    to split 
    your mug, 

    it's 
    easy 
    to score 

    But 
    it's hard 
    to get 
    the shit 
    off 

    Niggas 
    fightin' 
    over 
    hundred 
    sales, 

    jump 
    in the car 
    and drive 
    off 

    When 
    the fiend 
    come 
    around 
    the block, 

    happy 
    as hell 

    Nig
    gas, 

    mad 
    'cause 
    they ain't get 
    a piece 
    of that 
    sale 

    Cut
    throat 
    connivers, universal, 

    ghetto survivor

    Go 
    to any 
    hood 
    that's live 

    and make 
    it liver 

    A lot 
    of niggas 
    schemin', 
    some 
    real, 

    some niggas 
    frontin' 

    But I'm 
    a big 
    dreamer, 

    so 
    watch me 
    come up 
    with somethin' 

    Verse 6
    New York, 
    New York 

    New 
    York, 
    New York 

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