Текст песни Nas - Let There Be Light

Hip Hop Is Dead
Жанр: Hip-Hop
Исполнитель: Nas
Альбом: Hip Hop Is Dead
Длительность: 04:28
Рейтинг: 1075
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: Partizan


Yeah, check check, testing It's clear out there? Yeah It's like I'm hang gliding over the hood, ha Never worry (ohhh, no, no, no) [Verse 1] Check, let there be light No gang banging in New York tonight Just murals of Biggie Smalls, bigger then life Turn up the kid mic cuz ya'll ain't listening right What's all this talk that Nas got bought? I'd rather outline my body in white chalk Ain't nobody been where I been, they at a stand still This is all overseen by my man Will [Chorus: Tre Williams] As I walk through the 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 I) I know my business, so my sins great (And I) I thank the hood for all the love they gave (And I) Forgive 'em all, they did they best to hate Oh, let there be light [Verse 2] This ain't the glorified, just painting the street picture There's no God in sir Bibles, just blunt and switches Gillettes cut pain in kitchen Now every rapper wanna claim he hang with Kenneth "Supreme" Griffith It's like the same difference cept when niggaz get arraigned They don't want the same sentence, niggaz get to snitchin If I could reverse the monsters and turn forward the razas And bring back the niggaz who was livest Old hustlers, reminscing 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 till we found our own way thru the maze New York, set trippin and flaggin Got the West Coast laughing, now Esco's asking What happened? My homegirl from upper Manhattan She remembers the quarters that's Latin, alotta rat-a-tat-tatting [Chorus] [Verse 3] The son of the audio cassette era, tech wearer Bullets and begets, Binzbo's speaker terror Till man I get mine till I'm dead, so I can drive sumpthin red Like that horse standing on it's hind legs Since Arnold and Willis in they bunk beds I wanted bread like Wonder, not manned-a-wanno like the parent of Lionel Nas is the Ghetto American Idol No matter what you do you're never getting my title I can't sound smart cuz ya'll'll run away They say I ain't hungry no more and I don't talk about 'ye Like there's no other way for a ex-hustler Cake ya, the x-ray splitter to touch ya, I beg to differ When you're four years into the game, we can have a conversation Eight years in the game, I invite ya on vacation Ten years in the game, after I've enjoyed my fame Only then I let ya pick my brain, niggaz [Bridge: Nas + (Tre Williams)] (And I) Right about now (And I) (They don't really know) (And I) (They don't really see) I don't even deal with all that garbage (No, no, no) We getting real right, ya know? (And I) (Though I walk through the valley) That is Tre Williams ladies and gentlemen (And I) (They should fear no) (And I) (no, no-oh) Focus on good things man, good times, Heh-heh, alright [Chorus - 2X (with alterations)] Oh let it be, let it be, yeah
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