N.Y. State of Mind - Live at Webster Hall, NYC - Dec. 17, 2002

Let's go back y'all
This is the anthem
This is the anthem for New York City
(Yeah, it's time nigga, yeah)
Straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap (a'ight)
Where fake niggas don't make it back (no, no, they don't)
They won't make it back (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Tell that nigga, yo

Rappers I-, with the funky
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 comin' through the block shootin'
Time to start the revolution, catch a body, head for Houston
Once they caught us off guard, the mac ten was in the grass, and
I ran like a cheetah, with thoughts of an assassin
Picked the MAC up, told brothers, "Back up"
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!"
I couldn't shoot, now I'm in danger
Pulled my shit back I had three bullets caught up in the chamber
That was-
Say what?
Say-
Ayo, ayo, that's enough, man

Oh, my fucking God
New mothefucking York
What the fuck is up in the air?
Who in the motherfucking house?
Ayo, ayo