New York state of mind I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death Rappers I monkey flip em with the funky rhythm I be kicking Musician, inflicting composition Of pain I'm like Scarface sniffing cocaine Holding a M-16, see with the pen I'm extreme,

The sound of the mortars The music of death Fresh from Moscow Over Volga came to comrades aid City in despair Almost crushed by the Führer's army Oh, it's colder than Hell Hitler's forces advancing A grand symphony

Four A.M., praying, can I get some rest? Dreams of suicide and a need for death "They changed so much, you know what I'm saying? How did these two motherfuckers, from New Orleans How did they change, how did they change music?" Yeah, I was the wave, but