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    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


    [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
    Let it be, let it be

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