| Turn the lights off, they done shut the club down
|
| Shut the club down, shut the, shut the club down
|
| Turn the lights off, they done shut the club down
|
| Shut the club down, shut the, shut the club down
|
| The schoolyard reeks of sewage, broken pipes, broken promise
|
| The thin man staggers lucid for this time of night
|
| Drying vomit dangles from the beard, step, mumble, shuffle, trip
|
| But the trajectory is clear, he’s headed for the covered steps
|
| Tut, tut, it looks like rain, he remembers A. A. Milne
|
| Each time the sky is this kind of grey, that or his favorite film, Gene Kelly
|
| Leaping Technicolor through the fray and feeling glorious
|
| The story is an allegory for his days, but night is coming now
|
| Vials snap, aluminum sounds, fibers slap as drops descend on tall cans
|
| It’s all hands on deck to chase the pain away
|
| Dealers rockin' parkas with plenty pockets for product
|
| The money, horrors, the logic and babies holler from colic
|
| The symphony is tectonic, it shifts as the Earth is settlin'
|
| Precious metals are mined and a million minds have been meddlin' with time
|
| In the hopes of getting a golden noose for the neck
|
| Golden goose from a fairy tale, shittin' Faberge eggs
|
| Here snitches shit bricks, then quick to talk Pig Latin
|
| That black dart too slick for that kid tappin' a window
|
| While lookin' over his shoulder, stop lookin' over your shoulder
|
| You’re never caught from behind as long as you keep movin' forward
|
| They long for the sleep like they mortal, be zombies, but they got this portal
|
| In their minds and the molecules get rewired every trip they takin' through time
|
| And they trippin' nightly, the blacks of the eyes igniting
|
| The pits in the backyard biting, the cats in the trashcan fighting
|
| The feeling of guns peeling like bells in a telltale reeling
|
| Of bodies losing they feeling and falling down and the ceiling
|
| Is black from the smoke that’s rising, the scent is just so enticing
|
| The scent is a small price for the right to live out your vices, now
|
| Turn the lights off, they done shut the club down
|
| Shut the club down, shut the, shut the club down
|
| And every night after the club it goes down
|
| Plenty, plenty, mo' rounds, bodies, bodies on the ground
|
| On Broadway or Main Street they all stumble out
|
| To a dozen pairs of hands pullin' bottles from they mouths
|
| Hotties hardly walk now, everybody passed out
|
| In the backseat of the taxi, so they never heard a sound
|
| It’s the city and the city and you only see one
|
| And it all looked pretty when it all begun
|
| But the shit is got to balance on the barrel of a gun
|
| All the money in the world ain’t gonna stop none of
|
| That gangsta shit, that gangsta shit
|
| The whole world lovin' that gangsta shit
|
| Can’t change this shit, it’s dangerous
|
| But it really ain’t nuttin' to a gangsta
|
| Bitch, what you know about that? |
| Don’t act like a newbie
|
| New D boys get jacked, what you need is a New Jack Swing
|
| And a new truly discerning taste for the base, like a foodie
|
| Harmony’s cruelly high when it’s on his step
|
| Stepped on dope is a safety net
|
| And the dope fiends cry but they don’t regret
|
| Everyone get high, go out 'til they
|
| Turn the lights off, they done shut the club down
|
| Shut the club down, shut the, shut the club down
|
| Why you fightin' all the shit that make the world go 'round?
|
| World go 'round, world, world go 'round
|
| Turn the lights off, they done shut the club down
|
| Shut the club down, shut the, shut the club down
|
| Turn the lights off, they done shut the club down
|
| Shut the club down, shut the, shut the club down
|
| It’s the city and the city and you only see one
|
| And it all looked pretty when it all begun
|
| But the shit is got to balance on the barrel of a gun
|
| All the money in the world ain’t gonna stop none of
|
| That gangsta shit, that gangsta shit
|
| The whole world lovin' that gangsta shit
|
| Can’t change this shit, it’s dangerous
|
| But it really ain’t nuttin' to a gangsta
|
| Got the twenties and the fifities wrapped up under all the ones
|
| Two for twenty, five for fifty, you could move a couple tons
|
| You could put it in the blood or you could put it in the lungs
|
| But, whatever you cough up, remember that it all begun with
|
| That gangsta shit, that gangsta shit
|
| The whole world lovin' that gangsta shit
|
| Can’t change this shit, it’s dangerous
|
| But it really ain’t nuttin' to a gangsta |