Lyrical Breakdown of N.Y. State of Mind (feat. National Symphony Orchestra) - Live - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "N.Y. State of Mind (feat. National Symphony Orchestra) - Live" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how Nas weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "N.Y. State of Mind (feat. National Symphony Orchestra) - Live" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that Nas employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to Nas's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "N.Y. State of Mind (feat. National Symphony Orchestra) - Live" not only celebrates Nas's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

Yeah, yeah

Ayo Black, it's time, word (word, it's time, man)

It's time, man (a'ight, man, begin)

Yeah, straight out the fuckin' 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 sniffin' cocaine

Holdin' an M16, see, with the pen I'm extreme

Now, bullet holes left in my peepholes

I'm suited up with street clothes, hand me a .9, 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 cee-lo champs

Laughin' at base-heads, tryna sell some broken amps

G-packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit

Reminiscin' about the last time the task force flipped

Niggas 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

Picked the MAC up, told brothers "Back up!", the MAC spit

Lead was hittin' niggas, one ran, I made him back-flip

Heard a few chicks scream, my arm shook, couldn't look

Gave another squeeze, heard it click, "Yo, my shit is stuck!"

Tried 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 jettin' to the buildin' lobby

And it was full of children, prob'ly couldn't see as high as I be

(So, what you sayin'?) It's like the game ain't the same

Got younger niggas pullin' the triggers, bringin' fame to their name

And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners

In broad daylight, stick-up kids, they run up on us

.45's and gauges, MAC's in fact

Same niggas will catch you back-to-back, snatchin' your cracks in black

There was a snitch on the block gettin' niggas knocked

So hold your stash 'til the coke price drop

I know this crackhead who said she gotta smoke nice rock

And if it's good, she'll bring you customers and measuring pots

But yo, you gotta slide on a vacation

Inside information keeps large niggas erasin' and their 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

Be havin' dreams that I'm a gangsta, drinkin' Moëts, holdin' TEC's

Makin' sure the cash came correct, then I stepped

Investments in stocks, sewin' up the blocks to sell rocks

Winnin' gunfights with mega-cops

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 & Wesson, I'll have niggas undressin'

Thinkin' of cash flow, Buddha, and shelter

Whenever frustrated, I'ma hijack Delta

In the PJ'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 dykes

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 villains and creeps

That's where I learned to do my hustle, had to scuffle with freaks

I'm a addict for sneakers, 20's of Buddha 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 puzzled as I backtrack to earlier times

Nothing's equivalent to the New York state of mind

New York state of mind