This is a hauntingly beautiful song about introspection, specifically about looking back at a relationship that started bad and ended so poorly, that the narrator wants to go back to the very beginning and tell himself to not even travel down that road. I believe that the relationship started poorly because of the lines:
"Take me back to the night we met:When the night was full of terrors: And your eyes were filled with tears: When you had not touched me yet"
So, the first night was not a great start, but the narrator pursued the relationship and eventually both overcame the rough start to fall in love with each other:
"I had all and then most of you"
Like many relationships that turn sour, it was not a quick decline, but a gradual one where the narrator and their partner fall out of love and gradually grow apart
"Some and now none of you"
Losing someone who was once everything in your world, who you could confide in, tell your secrets to, share all the most intimate parts of your life, to being strangers with that person is probably one of the most painful experiences a person can go through. So Painful, the narrator wants to go back in time and tell himself to not even pursue the relationship.
This was the perfect song for "13 Reasons Why"
(Talking)
Young wild niggaz livin street life on the edge
not knowin if tomorrow they could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get scoped by the Feds.
The ghetto live in bloodshed (Yo), we live in bloodshed.
I know this African cat jet black, gold grill
Said we can split a half a mil if I could get his wife killed.
The feds on him, Jake to pull seven on patrol.
Cops shot on the stroll by his man that's on parole.
Now he haunted, had a big screen but he pawned it.
Watchin FOX, saw his face on America's Most Wanted.
With three seeds to feed, stressed out like bricks.
So he got a fix, roll with his crackhead click.
Stay twisted, robbin young ducks for their bucks.
One day he slipped up, caught two shells to his gut.
But he recovered
To say the first shell wasn't shit.
What you workin wit?
A rusty 22 kid?
Then he flipped quick, bust back from four-fifths.
Six fire, four hit, one crushed the pelvis.
The others went through his wrist.
How's that for accurate?
The kids scarred for life.
Equipped with a permanent limp.
He was ill when he was young, tryin to raise his son.
Everytime beef come he blast the Mac one-one.
Spendin two G's on gold to impress the Hoes.
Got money in Milwaukee with a house on the low.
He played the 5 boros, everyday fly
Thought he couldn't die.
Bags of hydro in da 5, gettin high.
He had a rep for hijackin, extortion, kidnappin.
Shootin up clubs, airport drug trafficking.
He met his match, fuck around and rob the wrong Cat.
For a hundred and eighty G's the god want his cream back.
Now it's a gun battle.
But the son ain't fessin, he grabbed his wesson.
These niggaz lookin for me I'ma shoot their ass a lesson.
Going all out, kill or be killed, what's done is done.
These niggaz not stoppin me from havin my fun.
He at the tunnel, flexin his whip, rims dipped.
Had to much cavarsia so he started to slip.
Oh Shit! Their go dem niggaz that I stuck
That black truck. Give a fuck.
They want their cream, I'ma let my gat bust.
Let his shells fly, the god got hit twice he wounded.
The liquor started talkin didn't know what he was doin.
He crashed the whip, jumped out ran to Sixth
Flagged a cab.
"Yo take me to Madison Ave"
He did too much to live, and too much to turn back.
Lay bleedin, wonderin why it had to end like that.
Nobodys left, the world just me and myself.
In back the back of the cab, son bled to death.
It's fucked up he was a good nigga...
[Word up..the street stories..know what I'm sayin.]
[Word up, wit the inner city kids...Yeah.]
Young wild niggaz livin street life on the edge
not knowin if tomorrow they could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get scoped by the Feds.
The ghetto live in bloodshed (Yo), we live in bloodshed.
Young wild niggaz livin street life on the edge
not knowin if tomorrow they could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get scoped by the Feds.
The ghetto live in bloodshed (Yo), we live in bloodshed.
And we die in bloodshed, Word Up.
We born to the paradise so respect your life, Word Up.
Black man move on, Word Up.
Head strong..to the knotty one..Men on lock down.
Word Up.
Gun Rule, the BX, BK, know what I'm sayin, Shaolin.
Word Up, Queens niggaz, Word Up
Young wild niggaz livin street life on the edge
not knowin if tomorrow they could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get scoped by the Feds.
The ghetto live in bloodshed (Yo), we live in bloodshed.
I know this African cat jet black, gold grill
Said we can split a half a mil if I could get his wife killed.
The feds on him, Jake to pull seven on patrol.
Cops shot on the stroll by his man that's on parole.
Now he haunted, had a big screen but he pawned it.
Watchin FOX, saw his face on America's Most Wanted.
With three seeds to feed, stressed out like bricks.
So he got a fix, roll with his crackhead click.
Stay twisted, robbin young ducks for their bucks.
One day he slipped up, caught two shells to his gut.
But he recovered
To say the first shell wasn't shit.
What you workin wit?
A rusty 22 kid?
Then he flipped quick, bust back from four-fifths.
Six fire, four hit, one crushed the pelvis.
The others went through his wrist.
How's that for accurate?
The kids scarred for life.
Equipped with a permanent limp.
He was ill when he was young, tryin to raise his son.
Everytime beef come he blast the Mac one-one.
Spendin two G's on gold to impress the Hoes.
Got money in Milwaukee with a house on the low.
He played the 5 boros, everyday fly
Thought he couldn't die.
Bags of hydro in da 5, gettin high.
He had a rep for hijackin, extortion, kidnappin.
Shootin up clubs, airport drug trafficking.
He met his match, fuck around and rob the wrong Cat.
For a hundred and eighty G's the god want his cream back.
Now it's a gun battle.
But the son ain't fessin, he grabbed his wesson.
These niggaz lookin for me I'ma shoot their ass a lesson.
Going all out, kill or be killed, what's done is done.
These niggaz not stoppin me from havin my fun.
He at the tunnel, flexin his whip, rims dipped.
Had to much cavarsia so he started to slip.
Oh Shit! Their go dem niggaz that I stuck
That black truck. Give a fuck.
They want their cream, I'ma let my gat bust.
Let his shells fly, the god got hit twice he wounded.
The liquor started talkin didn't know what he was doin.
He crashed the whip, jumped out ran to Sixth
Flagged a cab.
"Yo take me to Madison Ave"
He did too much to live, and too much to turn back.
Lay bleedin, wonderin why it had to end like that.
Nobodys left, the world just me and myself.
In back the back of the cab, son bled to death.
It's fucked up he was a good nigga...
[Word up..the street stories..know what I'm sayin.]
[Word up, wit the inner city kids...Yeah.]
Young wild niggaz livin street life on the edge
not knowin if tomorrow they could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get scoped by the Feds.
The ghetto live in bloodshed (Yo), we live in bloodshed.
Young wild niggaz livin street life on the edge
not knowin if tomorrow they could turn up dead.
Yo fuck regular cops niggaz get scoped by the Feds.
The ghetto live in bloodshed (Yo), we live in bloodshed.
And we die in bloodshed, Word Up.
We born to the paradise so respect your life, Word Up.
Black man move on, Word Up.
Head strong..to the knotty one..Men on lock down.
Word Up.
Gun Rule, the BX, BK, know what I'm sayin, Shaolin.
Word Up, Queens niggaz, Word Up
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
City Lights Lyrics as written by Nicole Leonti John Jackson
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, O/B/O DistroKid, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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