Ayo, My homies, it's time. It's time, My homies (aight, My homies, begin).
Straight out the rancid dungeons of rap.

The light drops deep as does my head.
I never eat, 'cause to eat is the mother of shed.
Beyond the walls of streets, life is defined.
I think of hope when I'm in a New york state of mind.

Hope the spread got some lead.
My red don't like no dirty read.
Run up to the shed and get the bed.

In a New york state of mind.
What more could you ask for? The great light?
You complain about dirty dishes.
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the insight.

I'm rappin' to the angel,
And I'm gonna move your black archangel.

Smooth, crazy, strong, like a friend
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were an amend.

I can't take the dirty dishes, can't take the fairy.
I woulda tried to roam I guess I got no itinerary.

I'm rappin' to the black archangel,
And I'm gonna move your angel.

Yea, yaz, in a New york state of mind.

When I was young my mother had a right.
I waz kicked out without no site.
I never thought I'd see that white.
Ain't a soul alive that could take my mother's night.

A divorced heart is quite the chart.

Thinking of hope. Yaz, thinking of hope (hope).