a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

kendrick lamar - j. dilla (freestyle) lyrics

[verse 1: punch]
i’m still lost in my own zone in the living room
like i’m dead to the world playing donny hathaway
patron shots i consume taking the pain away
each sip bring me closer to my doom
sun shining bright through the crack in the blind
thinking to myself this morning what happened to time
it’s p-ssing away, the world decides, it ain’t what it used to be
everything i love don’t mean what it used to mean
for example spitting a 16
no thrills, feeling numb like i’m of thorazine
it used to be nicotine, i was addicted to this rap thing
now i’m just trying to trap cream
enough drowning in my sorrow, never put off tomorrow
what you can do today, that’s my new motto
with that said, i roll out the bed
hit the showers, it’s time to get this bread, now make dollars

[verse 2: kendrick lamar]
i woke up in the morning, washed my body, put some clothes on it
after that, put on my heat like alonzo mourning
cause everybody got a gun, it’s like they’re copy cats
so me without one is like i’m dated
i’d be out of style like adidas and fat laces
starter jackets and dookie ropes or whatever the late 80’s had favored
i’m one of the best of my h0m- sapiens
one of the best of god’s creations
he shows favoritism everytime you hear the record on radio stations
i know you mad, you ain’t gotta say much, i can feel you hating
serving mc’s like waitress, andre ag-ssi, mult-talented
rapper slash athlete, k!lling these n-ggas, they’re screaming in agony
half of these n-ggas ain’t half of me
half of these n-ggas ain’t talking ’bout nothing, yakity, yakity
pushing my b-ttons like plaid shirts, clapping them rapidly
actually, kurt, co-bain
ten years in my career, pray to god that i don’t blow up my brains, lord, i’m here
great depression, i don’t know much, all i know is studio sessions, and how to get my bars up
they call me subway sandwich the way i give them cold cuts
cut from a different cloth, and these yves saint laurent jeans;
they cost so much
(?) usher
either way i’m caught up in materialistic
anything that’s custom, best believe i’mma get it
getting tired of it and get rid of it, don’t step on the compton premises without your weap-on on your hip
the home of the stray bullet that murder the innocent
no matter the crime rate i still remain content
moving at my own pace, cause if it don’t make dollars
then it really don’t make sense, and if you can’t comprehend
i holler like a rottweiler behind a backyard fence
(holla) – x4

[verse 3: jay rock]
i woke up this morning, counting my cash
girls calling me now, straight throwing the -ss
i threw on my t, i grabbed my b-tch
laced up my chucks, rock sharp as a piece
they used to call me a creature, but now i’m a beast
with my voice on the beat, i’m the voice of the streets
from my head to the feet, i’m bad to the bone
n-gga, i won’t stop, ’till i’m add to the throne
dog, i ride with the chrome, gotta be safe in this sh-t
call me pharrell, boy, i keep me them clipse
i don’t ride on no skateboard, i roll with some grinders
trapped in the hood, far from giligans island
i was a drug dealer, but now i’m a wild spitter
n-gga, i’m more iller, call me a hospital
you got the hiccups, i got this fluent as sh-t n-gga
i spit a bar, straight ruin your sh-t n-gga
known as a mack, i can influence your b-tch
i’m the reason these n-ggas be handcuffin’ them quick
i’m the reason these b-tch n-ggas be playa hating on us
see them in the streets, these n-ggas don’t be saying nothing
but keep on talking, you ain’t ready for beef
jay rock down to bust a n-gga head in the streets
i can’t help it, the hood flow through my blood
this g-ngb-ngin sh-t, should be considered a drug
everybody doing it now, i see you rap n-ggas
wrong place, wrong time, that’s how you get clapped n-gga
raised in the projects, money my object
they standing in my way, like a frog i dissect them
you’ll get shot walking through my section
now you a verse all in my session, they say life is a school
everyday is a lesson, well i get kicked out, sh-t got me guessing
sh-t naw, check my ghetto report card, straight a student in every cl-ss up in the gardens
money over b-tches, n-gga i’m heartless
money over b-tch n-ggas, rich is my target
(target) – x4

- kendrick lamar lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS