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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
Niggas
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