See The Light Lyrics

[Intro: DJ KaySlay]
"More Than Just A DJ"!
Hip-Hop ain't dead...
Some of you niggas ears is just f**kED UP!
Ghostface Killah!

[Chorus: Ghostface Killah sample from "Fast Cars"]
I will take my time in the bushes, right!
Pay the people no mind like I'm crooked, right!
Shoot a nigga on down [5 shots] do him something right
He on the floor, tell his grams, yo, I see the light! [x2]

You know the redirect! - Top teir predicate!
Stare, so whatever, shit, nigga, I'm a delicate.
Do it for the hell of it. - Brooklyn is the heritage
Home of the thoroughest - fully autos never miss. [2 shots]
Call me the mellowest! - Murdering, verbalist
Ride through the turbulence with la on the purple scent.
G posture, bum rocker, gun cocker
Without the skully, I'm gully, sonny, a Young Hoffa!
Come papa! - A kid left stunting!
Homicide is nothing! - I'm E.F. Hutton.
Graze, gutter the grunting. - Days slayed are slumping
Twin K's, either wake of pie, today's is dumping.
Cuffed up, or something, the buck of C's and bumping
This Drama King thing, while you ding-a-lings is munching.
Rae', Ghost' & A'! - Street Sweepers'll slay
BK, Staten Island, Manhattan, but hey!


Straight out the bushes, yo, from Lefrac to Bushwick
Blowing kush, catch him in buildings, sting him like cushion! (pop that nigga!)
High powered eagles. - Circulate through spots like needles
Bumping and grinding, and jetting the diesel. (worrrrd!)
E-classes, feeding the masses, so much hash on my land
I had to power down and cop three tractors.
Living luxurious! - Glorious, super deluxe hustlers
This is why we stay notorious. (yup nigga, that's right!)
The emperor! - Call me a kings mentor,
Spent off the real money's real estate, now repent war.
Crime! - Taxes and axes and bulletproof pens
I'm 'bout to get an ice glove like M. Jackson.
Alpine, gooseneck systems, Calv' Klein
Build blast '88 niggas who kill fast.
I represent the planet of real masters
Park Hillian flashers. - Kill you for the will or to build action!


[Ghostface Killah:]
Whattup KaySlay? It's yo boy! - Take me to paralyze her! - Drag him to Carolina!
If he don't talk, stuff his mouth with the pacifier.
Put his brains on his cali' make him feel the fire
Flame broil his lips, guns is lows for the appetizer! (worrrrd!)
Honey roast his nuts! - Throat cut!
Leave that faggot dick like a broke dutch! - Look like he woke up!
Bang him a cal! - Hanging him now
These semi autos almost took off half of his head, yo, this is Staten Island!
Stay smiling, cake piling! - Watching our glucose
Reppin' forty's and brown bags, dippin' from blue coats.
Catch the G-Unit on a new boat - flicking it up
With new ropes, choppers banging, banging new Ghost!
Applying the pressure, I bet you the K and the A will stretch ya
Leave your host, something holy like Mecca!
This is real talk, blood sport, battery action
Mixed with rat poison, you punk faggots hurt, hand me your f**king package!


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Record Label(s): 2010 E1 Music
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