[Kendrick Lamar]
|
Lifestyles of a kid that never had shit
|
Living off that bad shit, that shoot shit, that stab shit
|
Rock a flag and don't give a fuck about U.S. flag shit
|
George Bush got some nerve, fuck a war, we tryna serve
|
motherfucking eight-balls till we live at the pool hall
|
and knock billiards out of business, ya bitch
|
That's my surroundings in Compton, have common sense
|
Smell death in the air round here, that's a common scent
|
You know the gunpowder
|
You when your homie barely blink he just done powder, only at seventeen
|
You know the common statistic inspired by Hoop Dreams
|
Now hired by street schemes of getting blood money
|
I try my best to stay focussed and hope the city love me
|
Pray it's not lust, cause if it is I'll be dead in a month
|
Lord forbid, for the good kid, they took his life
|
She want her baby back like a cooked rib, but that's just life
|
where I'm from
|
|
[Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]
|
If there's a shining star
|
Hope my city's not too far
|
So we can live again
|
See, where I come from it's hard
|
Hope all over we can start
|
So we can live again, so we can live again
|
|
[CurT@!n$]
|
I seen this youngun on the train, I had to pick his brain
|
He said he on his way uptown to get a brick of 'caine
|
He said he needed a come up cause selling nicks was lame
|
He needed a change, so I gave him fifty cent
|
He looked at me like I was crazy, I said listen man
|
I'd rather give you my last to see you live again
|
Just cause you change what you pitching don't make the difference
|
You gotta get off the mound and put the game down
|
Petty thoughts could keep your brain down
|
I leave you with that jewel, go get the chain now, and put it together
|
See, coming up we ain't have shit to keep our mind focussed
|
I love Mike, but it was a hassle trying to buy Jordans
|
My nigga hustled all day in front of the corner store
|
to get a pair, and niggas killed him right in front of the mall
|
Huh, so all that hustling for nothing then
|
I threw my pair on the light pole because of him
|
like, fuck it man
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[ScHoolboy Q]
|
Tryna move forward, though it never stops
|
A mother's son dead, was killed by some kids, popped shots
|
They back and forth
|
Murder for murder, the beef recycled is vital
|
No idols, bunch of 'em read bibles
|
Allies that turned to rivals, niggas turned street disciples
|
Smokers get high as Eiffels
|
Addicted to being fiends cause of Feds, as we pledge to let our plague spread
|
Tiny this, and if it that they banging back
|
as they a-dapt to being black, straps and gang tats, look
|
Rats get mouse traps, can't afford tuition
|
But hit a lick, I bet I earn crack, I heard that
|
Looking at the sky, just hoping that a light will shine
|
Daylight saving time all the time on this block of mine
|
All the time with this Glock of mine
|
Swear to God man it ain't a rhyme, I grind for a piece of mind
|
Co-sign
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Excerpt of Black Ice performing on Def Poetry]
|
"When you look at my brothers, what's your first impression?
|
Does the sight of us leave you guessing, or do you understand the stressing?
|
The aggression, the look of no hope on my niggas' faces
|
like the Lord overlooked us when he handed down his graces
|
You see embraces fall short on the numb tips of street entrepreneur fingers
|
Stuck on the walls of the project halls where the coke smell still lingers
|
External blingers is all we can be, cause on the inside we've been given nothing to shine on
|
And a gig is harder to get than coke, so niggas get they grind on
|
cause the TV tells us, aim high nigga, make all goals lateral
|
But see that takes paper that we don't have so niggas put they souls up as collateral
|
Now, some niggas reclaim 'em, some blame 'em, make an excuse to sell 'em
|
But when a nigga goes from not doing to doing, what can you tell him?
|
Not to be a nigga? Shit, I gots to be a nigga, that's how I pay the bills
|
and I'ma do that whether I got to sling this coke or exploit these rhyme skills"
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Live Again
|
| Schoolboy Q |