Nas, The Alchemist - Too Late lyrics
Nas [Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones] Brooklyn, NYC, U.S. 🇺🇸
The Alchemist [Alan Daniel Maman] Beverly Hills, CA, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Nas, The Alchemist - Too Late lyrics]
I sip the blood of Christ from a gold cup
I love this life
My soldiers smoke you, no price
Dead men in graves roll over
I'm part Apache, slave master, African
Who asked me
Fans tear my clothes, bitches try to trap me
30, 000 seats rise to their
Feet to hear me flow
Got two mansions on the East Coast
Models deep throat
I heard about them kidnap dudes
Had dinner with some
Shake hands with killers just to
See who really was one study his moves
How he look fake - but that's the trick to it
Now we turn you to bait
The street shit I stick to it
Rappers hate me, bitches saying
"how did he start?"
They go to psychics asking 'em
For my astrology chart
I'm the righteous thug, fight for Mumia
Racist white judge - made
Diallo's murderers free
See, they don't like us
And what about conspiracies to
Kill black boys but y'all ain't hearing me
Worship the planet like asteroids
Look around and everything you see
Was once an idea
From somebody's thoughts who turned
Into reality clear
Look at the tallest sky scrapers
It just didn't appear
Somebody thought it up and built it
Up and put it right ther
Aye yo rich niggas burn and
Roll up in Testarossa's
Poor niggas plan to come up
They cop the toasters
Dead niggas lay in they grave and roll over
But it is too late, too late
Aye yo rich niggas burn and
Roll up in Testarossa's
Poor niggas plan to come up
They cop the toasters
Dead niggas lay in they grave and roll over
But it is too late, too late
Aye yo Aye yo Ayeyo
I love this life
My soldiers smoke you, no price
Dead men in graves roll over
I'm part Apache, slave master, African
Who asked me
Fans tear my clothes, bitches try to trap me
30, 000 seats rise to their
Feet to hear me flow
Got two mansions on the East Coast
Models deep throat
I heard about them kidnap dudes
Had dinner with some
Shake hands with killers just to
See who really was one study his moves
How he look fake - but that's the trick to it
Now we turn you to bait
The street shit I stick to it
Rappers hate me, bitches saying
"how did he start?"
They go to psychics asking 'em
For my astrology chart
I'm the righteous thug, fight for Mumia
Racist white judge - made
Diallo's murderers free
See, they don't like us
And what about conspiracies to
Kill black boys but y'all ain't hearing me
Worship the planet like asteroids
Look around and everything you see
Was once an idea
From somebody's thoughts who turned
Into reality clear
Look at the tallest sky scrapers
It just didn't appear
Somebody thought it up and built it
Up and put it right ther
Aye yo rich niggas burn and
Roll up in Testarossa's
Poor niggas plan to come up
They cop the toasters
Dead niggas lay in they grave and roll over
But it is too late, too late
Aye yo rich niggas burn and
Roll up in Testarossa's
Poor niggas plan to come up
They cop the toasters
Dead niggas lay in they grave and roll over
But it is too late, too late
Aye yo Aye yo Ayeyo