| Been, down. |
| Been down
|
| Late at night, what’s gone wrong?
|
| Been down. |
| Been, down
|
| Late at night the bad don’t seem so wrong
|
| When night falls and all light’s off
|
| You’ll get robbed where I live
|
| Crooks and robbers, villains and mobsters
|
| The nights got nothing to give
|
| Whats gone wrong, when? |
| Late at night
|
| Niggas be stealing, when? |
| Late at night
|
| Niggas be killing, why?
|
| Because late at night, the bad don’t seem so wrong
|
| Nightfall is curtain call for underhanded theatrics
|
| Slugs travel through gun barrels
|
| From hands that had practice
|
| While rapist take the darkness
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| And make alleys they mattress
|
| Jonesin' junkies twitchin among hookers with coochies itchin
|
| Spreadin disease, spreadin they knees in different positions
|
| In the abyss is children that get lost in the mix
|
| Gunned down for fresh kicks or oppostie colored fits
|
| Its demons brewed lewd manners behind tints
|
| «Whats gone wrong?»
|
| People sitting in position to help with distorted views
|
| Only experience doses of night that’s on the news
|
| Or BET showing the glamour without the blues
|
| Or MTV helping you pick out Jessica’s shoes
|
| Just construes how you’re living, confusing your vision
|
| Nights a politician because only the truth is what’s missing
|
| Dirty cops fight crime with dirtier ammunition
|
| The night’s salivating waiting for me to finish spittin
|
| When night falls and all light’s off
|
| You’ll get robbed where I live
|
| Crooks and robbers, villains and mobsters
|
| The nights got nothing to give
|
| Whats gone wrong, when? |
| Late at night
|
| Niggas be stealing, when? |
| Late at night
|
| Niggas be killing, why?
|
| Because late at night, the bad don’t seem so wrong
|
| When them lights low and ain’t no night glow from the moon
|
| Scoundrels run towns, no hounds to hunt them down
|
| Keep your sight low and get your life stole by some goons
|
| Swindlers injure you, a criminal’s heart’s miniature
|
| Men in the dark paint sinister art in the park
|
| Son of the morning star? |
| Stringing hearts like a harp
|
| Playing melodies of jealousy, felonies strummed by
|
| Hell and it’s philharmonic, bewitching our young guys
|
| «Whats Gone Wrong?»
|
| We no longer seek light to give us power
|
| That voice gets hushed by the rush of the Witching Hour
|
| The touch of the wicked cowards that lurk in the dusk
|
| In even-tide, heathens rise, searching for bucks
|
| Anonymous and corrupt, assure obscurity
|
| In a spell under it’s veil, an impure security
|
| We love it in our spirits cause we’re suckers for lust
|
| Most even fuck in it, we’re too ashamed to be just
|
| When night falls and all light’s off
|
| You’ll get robbed where I live
|
| Crooks and robbers, villains and mobsters
|
| The nights got nothing to give
|
| Whats gone wrong, when? |
| Late at night
|
| Niggas be stealing, when? |
| Late at night
|
| Niggas be killing, why?
|
| Because late at night, the bad don’t seem so wrong |