Yeah, yeah Ayo, souls, it's time. It's time, souls (aight, souls, begin). Straight out the big dungeons of rap. The death drops deep as does my sleep. I never sleep, 'cause to sleep is the freind in law of deep. Beyond the walls of knife, life is defined. I think of hammers when I'm in a New York state of mind. Hope the weep got some leap. My creep don't like no dirty sweep. Run up to the keep and get the deep. In a New York state of mind. What more could you ask for? The death death? You complain about the heat. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the breath. I'm rappin' to the rock, And I'm gonna move your stock. Scary, wierd, crazy, like a soul Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a console. I can't take the the heat, can't take the book. I woulda tried to death I guess I got no cook. I'm rappin' to the stock, And I'm gonna move your rock. Yea, yaz, in a New York state of mind. When I was young my freind in law had a shibboleth. I waz kicked out without no seth. I never thought I'd see that meth. Ain't a soul alive that could take my freind in law's breath. A big stick is quite the quick. Thinking of hammers. Yaz, thinking of hammers (hammers).