Let there be light No gangbanging in New York tonight Just murals of Biggie Smalls bigger than life Turn up the kid mic because ya’ll anit listening right What’s all this talk that Nas got hawked? I’d rather outline my body in white chalk Anit nobody been where I been they at standstill This is all overseen by man Will
Hook As I walk through the valley of shadow of death I know that I ain't got much time left And they don't really wanna see the good in me Ain't satisfied until they see the fool in me ?? And all my business all my sin isstraight ?? and thank the hood for all the love they gave ?? forgive em all for all in this to hate ?? ohhh let their be light
Verse 2 This anit to glorify just painting a street picture There’s no goddess or bibles just blunts and swishers Gillette’s cut caine in the kitchen Now every rapper wanna claim he hang with Kenneth “Supreme” Griffin It’s like the same difference except when nigga’s get arraigned They don’t want the same sentence, nigga’s get to snitching If I could reverse the minds and turn falls to rises and bring back nigga’s who livest Old hustlers reminiscing on better days they home Doing nothing might as well be in a cage Hating on young brothers one foot in the grave They used to love us until we found our own way through the maze New York set trippin and flagging west coast laughing Now Esco’s asking, what happened ? My home girl from Upper Manhattan she remembers the quarters thats latin A lot of rat-a-tat-tatting
Hook
Verse 3 The son of the audio cassette era, tech wearer Bullets and burgettes Benz Bo speak a terror Demand I get mine till I’m dead so I can drop something red Like that horse standing on its hind legs Since Arnold and Willis in there bunk beds I went and bread like wonder Not Ned the wineo like the parents of Lionel Nas is the ghetto American idol No matter what you do your never getting my title I can’t sound smart because you’ll run away They say I ain't hungry no more and I don’t talk about yay Like there’s no other way for an ex hustler, cake getter, Ex rich splitter to touch ya I beg to differ When your fours years in the game we can have a conversation Eight years in the game I’ll invite you on vacation Ten years in the game After I’ve enjoyed my fame, only then I’ll let you pick my brain Niggas Let there be light No gangbanging in New York tonight Just murals of Biggie Smalls bigger than life Turn up the kid mic because ya’ll anit listening right What’s all this talk that Nas got hawked? I’d rather outline my body in white chalk Anit nobody been where I been they at standstill This is all overseen by man Will
Hook As I walk through the valley of shadow of death I know that I ain't got much time left And they don't really wanna see the good in me Ain't satisfied until they see the fool in me ?? And all my business all my sin isstraight ?? and thank the hood for all the love they gave ?? forgive em all for all in this to hate ?? ohhh let their be light
Verse 2 This anit to glorify just painting a street picture There’s no goddess or bibles just blunts and swishers Gillette’s cut caine in the kitchen Now every rapper wanna claim he hang with Kenneth “Supreme” Griffin It’s like the same difference except when nigga’s get arraigned They don’t want the same sentence, nigga’s get to snitching If I could reverse the minds and turn falls to rises and bring back nigga’s who livest Old hustlers reminiscing on better days they home Doing nothing might as well be in a cage Hating on young brothers one foot in the grave They used to love us until we found our own way through the maze New York set trippin and flagging west coast laughing Now Esco’s asking, what happened ? My home girl from Upper Manhattan she remembers the quarters thats latin A lot of rat-a-tat-tatting
Hook
Verse 3 The son of the audio cassette era, tech wearer Bullets and burgettes Benz Bo speak a terror Demand I get mine till I’m dead so I can drop something red Like that horse standing on its hind legs Since Arnold and Willis in there bunk beds I went and bread like wonder Not Ned the wineo like the parents of Lionel Nas is the ghetto American idol No matter what you do your never getting my title I can’t sound smart because you’ll run away They say I ain't hungry no more and I don’t talk about yay Like there’s no other way for an ex hustler, cake getter, Ex rich splitter to touch ya I beg to differ When your fours years in the game we can have a conversation Eight years in the game I’ll invite you on vacation Ten years in the game After I’ve enjoyed my fame, only then I’ll let you pick my brain NiggasTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
