| But it’s too late, it’s too late
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| He, gone
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| You sweat her, and I ain’t talkin 'bout a Coogi
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| You a big L, and I ain’t talkin 'bout Cool J See me at the airport, at least 20 Louis
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| Treat me like the Prince and this my sweet brother Numpsay
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| BROTHER NUMPSAY! |
| Groupies sound too choosy
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| Take 'em to the show and talk all through the movies
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| Says she want diamonds, I took her to Ruby Tuesdays
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| If we up in Friday’s, I still have it my way
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| Too late, we, gone — we strivin home
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| Gone — we ride on chrome
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| It’s too late
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| Y’all don’t want no prob from me What you rappers could get is a job from me Maybe you could be my intern, and in turn
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| I’ll show you how I cook up summer, in the win-turr
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| Aaron love the raw dog, when will he learn
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| Caught somethin on the Usher tour he had to «Let it Burn»
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| Plus he already got three chil’run
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| Arguin over babysitters like, «Bitch — it’s yo’turn!»
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| Damn 'Ye, it’d be stupid to ditch you
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| Even your superficial raps is super official
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| R-R-R-Roc pastel with Gucci on With TV’s in the ride, throw a movie on Said he couldn’t rap now he at the top with doobie long
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| Cause the dookie’s on any song that they threw me on, gone
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| We strivin home, gone
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| I ride on chrome…
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| We strivin home, gone
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| Killa, I ride on chrome
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| Knock knock, who’s there? |
| Killa Cam, Killa who?
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| Killa Cam, hustler, grinder, gorilla true
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| Oh my chinchilla blue, blue you ever dealt with a dealer
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| Well here’s the deal ma we goin to the
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| No concealin, no ceiling I don’t need a roof
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| Act up, get out, I don’t need you poof
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| Poof, be gone, damn tough luck dag
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| Dag, niggaz still doin puff puff pass
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| Pull the truck up fast and I tell 'em
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| Hey, back in a touched up Jag, shit
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| Y’all niggaz want Killa Cam, cerebellum
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| An old man just gon’tell 'em (too late, he, gone)
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| Then I see how y’all gonna react when I’m (gone)
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| My last girl want me back then I’m on Fine stay, you got the grind hey
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| Came back, read what the sign say (too late, he, gone)
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| Yes I know you wanna see my demise
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| Yeah you church boy actin like a thief in disguise
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| Ain’t leavin my side, see the greed in my eyes
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| Ask Abby y’all hustle for a week to the Chi, shit
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| And that ain’t leavin alive, please believe me Gave Weezy a piece of the pie, and
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| You can ask George or Regina
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| The whole Westside I explore with the Beemer now
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| We strivin home, I ride on chrome
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| Listen homeboy move on That’s your best bet, why’s that?
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| Cause
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| Uhh, uhh, yo, yo I been pourin out some liquor for the fact that my pal’s gone
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| And tryin to help his momma with the fact that her child gone
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| And since we used to bubble like a tub full of Calgon
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| Guess it’s only right that I should help her from now on But since they got a foul on, what coulda gone wrong
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| Now they askin Cons, how long has this gone on And maybe all this money mighta gone to my head
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| Cause they got me thinkin money mighta gone to the feds
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| So I ain’t goin to the dread, but he’ll go on up to bed
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| And when I came the next mornin he was gone with my bread
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| And with that bein said, I had gone on my instincts
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| And gone to the spots where they go to get mixed drinks
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| But lookin back now shoulda gone to the crib
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| And rented «Gone With the Wind,"cause I’da gone about 10
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| But I had gone with my friend, and we had gone to the bar
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| And heard a nigga talkin shit so I had gone to the car
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| And now the judge is tellin me that I had gone too far
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| And now we gone for 20 years, doin time behind bars
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| And since I gone to a cell for some cruddy crimes
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| I guess I gone to the well one too many times, cause I’m gone
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| Uh-uh-uh
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| Uh-uh-uh uh uh onnn, uh uh-uh onnn
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| Uh-uh onnn, uh uh-uh I’mmmm
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| Ah-head of my time, sometimes years out
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| So the powers that be won’t let me get my ideas out
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| And that make me wanna get my advance out
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| And move to Oklahoma and just live at my Aunt’s house
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| Yeah, I romance the thought of leavin it all behind
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| Kanye step away from the lime-
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| -light, like, when I was on the grind
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| In the «One, Nine, Nine, Nine»
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| Before, model chicks was bendin over or Dealerships asked me Benz or Rover, man
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| If I could just get one beat on Hova
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| We could get up off this cheap-ass sofa
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| What the summer of the Chi got to offer an 18-year-old
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| Sell drugs or get a job, you gotta play gyro
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| My dawg worked at Taco Bell, hooked us up plural-fied
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| A week later the manager count the churros
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| Sometimes I can’t believe it when I look up in the mirrow
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| How we out in Europe, spendin Euros
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| They claim you never know what you got 'til it’s GONE
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| I know I got it, I don’t know what y’all on
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| I’ma open up a store for aspiring MC’s
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| Won’t sell 'em no dream, but the inspiration is free
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| But if they ever flip sides like Anakin
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| You’ll sell everything includin the mannequin
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| They got a new bitch now you Jennifer Aniston
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| Hold on I’ll handle it, don’t start panickin, stay calm
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| Shorty’s at the door cause they need more
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| Inspiration for they life, they souls, and they songs
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| They said sorry Mr. West is gone! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Gone , by - Kanye West. Song from the album Late Registration, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп