Dave East - NY State Of Mind (Freestyle) lyrics
rate meAh, ya, ya, ya
Dog, what up? Ya
Niggas is dusty, guns are fluffy, we serve the cast keys
Pissy stayed K., all of the project bitches love me
Sellin’ grans, is spoke as sellin’ socks
Cook also throw the summer, they run when they sein’ shots
Sound from Spanish halla, wins project like every block
Dog inside to control so many bines get drop the crime
The crime beat a steady rise, we share skimin’
And screamin’ to get some better pass, leave niggas petrify
Stay skim, strapin’ all when they show the stuck in
This bitch live in the Labrum’s but it was inside of Manhattan
He trappin’ just try to crap it up, claim when he comin’
He sick of fraud chicken, nigga start to feel his stomach
He use to do the train, now he’s wippin’ for the hubba
His nose smokin’ crack so with dippers he had no future
His pops do it bad, he don’t answer when he cold
He don’t write the leafa, you got it fity, he’ll take it right to meet ya
The wind it’s cold, the summer is hot, the hunnit shots
A hunnit spots, no fightin’, them younger’s love them lacks
The older nigga still talkin’, they use to run the block
Then young boy, get the shootin’, them niggas run the cops
White teeth from the Jane, take the plug, keep the thug
I know some things that still love rock, like a bidets feel
Or run dope but I can’t shot and scare the leaders scam
On 2 fif in front of balers, I remember me and can’t kill ‘em
Trip so tief for that chick and takin’ the pie of pan
Wet workin’ and telly, they see broke, we need a fam
I see some chick that I probably take to the great scene
A nigga cut a nigga just cuz he cut his fits
(Verse)
Gotta got me familiar with this bridge,
That shit remind me bout all of me, have all night when he bang
I play tamped street, twelve street, forty eighty and forty first
Twenty first runnin’ to, gettin’ when he servin’ too
Walkin’ throw bumpin’, that shit for light captain
Look one to ones, nigga stimpin’, get your gun, you’re niggas on this
Same homie ask and blowin’ petro, my drew is retro
Make you claim, rushin’ and let go, I’m knockin’ death road,
That old pock, first air, I hit my own block
One time front, my seatbelt and my cousin so rock
Mamma dealin’ at me comin’ hit while they stove hot
I ain’t have a dollar in, forty Jeans don’t stop
No control, I really had to temper
Phone clickin’, makin’ sells by my hatin’ siner
Kill you stuck and fight wave in nigh, back you banged out
Second average in front of retarded, I back the banz up
True story there’s nothin’ like forty second street
No time square, have diams here wherever be
Pop pills, sick serrals like Texas nigga
Show and love and strangers, never see you, we gonna check you nigga
I’m with the gafful, welcome to the riddin apple
Blood makin’ no apple, crips trappin’’, crips trappin’ now they at you
Crown nigga on broke way
With forty fif on my all ways like all day
My jungles niggas on Brookline, I feel right like home
All too best style, they lettin’ live fly
Only fly back to New York, I got the red eye
New York nigga, your bitch were open for our set high
Lied up on death high
New York city, we talk fast, get fresh as hell
The motor roll is written nigga the next to tell
My project on fire, I’m livin’ next to hell
That bad only make me worst, got no respect for jail
