Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Shine , by - Royce 5'9. Release date: 14.04.2016
Song language: English
Shine |
| Just shine your light on the world |
| So shine your light on the world |
| No matter anywhere you go, keep |
| Shining your light on the world |
| Don’t let the money make you thirsty |
| Don’t even let it be your goal |
| Just let it come and keep on working |
| And shine your light on them hoes |
| Cause I’m the hardest nigga out here |
| I’d rather die than live a life of fear |
| I know I got to be down here |
| To shine my light on them hoes |
| Hardest nigga out here |
| I’d rather starve than live a life of fear |
| I feel like God sent me down here |
| To shine my light on them hoes |
| Lost in the world when me and my girlfriend meet, bless you |
| You know they say «if you fucked her and she didn’t cum |
| And you came, then she fucked you» |
| We squeeze first, nigga these ain’t rebuttals |
| These street sweepers, we dump til he jump brooms |
| Like these nuptials, in the D where dreams come true |
| This is the the story of a man who’s trying to break his doubts |
| Down like his cases count |
| Obsessive compulsive counting dough |
| Making sure all the numbers on the inside |
| And all the faces out |
| Lawyers on retainers like they braces out |
| Say my name wrong, I make you taste your mouth |
| Money come, money go |
| Get it but don’t splurge it |
| Your boy’s greed and war’s needs |
| Got their own purpose |
| There’s more than four speeds on that Porsche Turbo |
| It’s sitting on four G’s like my phone service |
| I’m out here trapping, but this here’s sincere rapping |
| Dear assassin, you can’t kill a signed and sealed classic |
| Gazelles and Bill Blasses, snake skin troops |
| Reptile enemies X’d out is what make men true |
| I’m blacking just like Jamaicans do |
| I’m running long side your coupe |
| Tapping guns upon your Wrathe window |
| Like Ox in Belly, got more Glocks and cellies |
| Than New Yorks got blocks and delis |
| Cops and boxes of pirellis, their doors' ajar |
| Exposing my Maserati’s guts |
| And that’s what got you jelly |
| The car I’m driving got a pot belly |
| I’m out here trapping |
| With this here sincere rapping |
| I’ve been shooting straight |
| Since two inch tape |
| This is for real classic |
| And getting money was never part of my goals |
| It just came along with me shining my light on them hoes |
| I’ve been out here trapping |
| With this here sincere rap |
| For fifteen years, I ain’t leaving here without a classic |
| I get money, get money money dough |
| All I came to do is shine my light on them hoes |
| Hip-hop is my house; |
| watch these philosophies win |
| Around artists I stand out like I locked my keys in |
| I forgot my goal at twenty-three was make a classic |
| Walk away like Tiger with my nine iron then take the master’s |
| They say that you get what you ask for |
| Well, I asked to be left alone with my pen, pad and passport |
| This ain’t no rags to rich brag shit |
| In fact, it’s more close to being a rich to rags story |
| The fabric I’m cut from’s the most genuine article mankind offers |
| I’m like an underground landmine talking |
| For Storch, Hammer & Antoine Walker |
| And your boy’s a tampon |
| In every store I’m anti-corporate |
| Highest exalted, call me commercial? |
| I’m highly insulted |
| This is Royce da 5'9″, mind body and soul shit |
| All I have on this fucking globe is my shotty and flow |
| I’d rather let the coroner outline my body in chalk |
| Than let the fans order me 'round the clock and buy me in bulk |
| I’m out here trapping |
| With this here sincere rapping |
| I’ve been shooting straight |
| Since two inch tape |
| This is for real classic |
| And getting money was never part of my goals |
| It just came along with me shining my light on them hoes |
| I’ve been out here trapping |
| With this here sincere rap |
| For fifteen years, I ain’t leaving here without a classic |
| I get money, get money money dough |
| All I came to do is shine my light on them hoes |
| We move in silence, y’all ain’t hearing us coming |
| I was sent by God to provide that imperial sonnage |
| Ya’ll assembly line of rhymers really don’t want it |
| I’ll eat you for breakfast, one by one I got ya’ll serial numbers |
| I’m about to send a tweet out to my nigga Styles |
| Tell him he got the juice now |
| Call my OG Scarface, talk some boxing with him |
| Perhaps these new clowns, politic perhaps |
| About a new him and Royce track |
| I’m feeling like D to the O to the C |
| When he got his voice back |
| Ha, I’m feeling like Cube in a fresh El Camino |
| Rolling key low g rolling through Detroit’s back |
| Streets waving to all my people |
| I’m feeling more at home than Reese Taylor |
| This are what memories are made of |
| I remember each grudge, each favor |
| Each lie, each judge, each bailiff |
| Each job, cheap labor |
| Each neighbor, each caper |
| Each Mosque, each Church |
| Each pastor, pew, and casket |
| Each future bastard double dutching through the madness, singing: |
| Just shine your light on the world |
| So shine your light on the world |
| No matter anywhere you go, kid |
| Shining your light on the world |
| Don’t let the money make you thirsty |
| Don’t even let it be your goal |
| Just let it come and keep on working |
| And shine your light on the hoes |
| Cause I’m the hardest nigga out here |
| I’d rather die than live a life of fear |
| I know I got to be down here |
| To shine my light on them hoes |
| Hardest nigga out here |
| I’d rather starve than live a life of fear |
| I feel like God sent me down here |
| To shine my light on them hoes |