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Kendrick Lamar – Rapper Shit

Kendrick Lamar
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исполнитель Kendrick Lamar

жанр Рэп

длительность 06:15

размер 14.31 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено MC.Searcher

Rapper Shit
Feat. Ab-Soul My back against the wall, I can see y'all fronting Drowning in your own spit and ain't coming up with nothing I call this shit "Rapper Shit" cause I ain't a rapper But if I was, this ain't some shit that I could rap after Caught up in the rapture, you call yourself a factor You're lame, paving away, Bob the Buil' factor I'm a real master, real massive, you just real average I see your chain, it's strange, they wore those in the Middle Passage And it's harder to play me than to fiddle backwards Don't act like you knew my tactics Cause when it hits the fan, you know I stand last I see through your true colors like stained glass I see the fear in your eyes when we arrive And what's the odds of even thinking you coincide When every time a nigga open a door you go inside Just to realize, either you're weak or someone lied See, you spend more time boasting about what you do than you do So by the time your shit is due it's doo-doo And who knew that too cool fool who used to sit in the back Would slip through the crack, like dudes who went to rehab Ab-Soul, Abstract Asshole Black Lip Bastard, et cetera for forever I follow no ruler, even if I'm under a drastic measure But whatever They say pressure bust pipes And I ain't never had to deal with plumbing in my life, now that's a bar Sparring with me like blasphemy to cathedral Or colliding with the diesel with your baby in your arms You would test me but you know better It's inadequate to go against the Jesus of Nazareth Of the rap game, and guess what, I got no cheddar But my mind is like a wizard I define the laws of gravity every time I get high and write a sentence Back teeth never been in agony, but I got wisdom I have risen from the wicked to jump on the competition, scorch ya Third degree burns next to their sideburns, all sorts of Combustable flows, firemen on speed dial Free the leaders of the free world with a freestyle Free the teachers, black activists get up off your feet now And feed off my feelings as I control my wheel Like new power steering, so sincere Tryna duck court hearings but I got big ears Rap peers, used to study them wishing they would fuck with me Now they can't fuck with him, I'm wishing good luck to them Reluctantly these critics loving me and I don't blame 'em They say, Kendrick you gunning for these niggas So when I pull my weapon out, I give 'em the pleasure to see me aim it And watch these bullets run into these niggas, clear the set I got now, I got next, give you nouns, give you verbs Give you adjectives while proposing an agitated threat I am most debated in barber shops all because they slept on me Big homie fear young, buck cause when I buck I make more than a buck Dollars come quick like a fucking nun fucking for the first time Put me in Alaska for six months in the dark, in my heart I know sun/son still shine Still got a skill to be found in a gold mine I got an appetite for habitual liars on the mic Who with pliers couldn't get a grip on life I spit like I sat the tip of my dick on ice, and that's intense Imagine if I had already came twice, ain't that some shit Pass the swisher nigga, fill your cup with liquor nigga Fly your kite till you're gone till November nigga Show 'em you remember nigga Pour some Hennessy and Crown for your homie six feet underground Smoke an ounce and turn that frown upside down Like the triangle in the panties of my gal When Mike Jack made "Raining in Moscow" I had no style Tommy Boy stocking on my scalp And that was like ninety-five, now it's twenty-ten Two years away from when they say the world's expected to end And I ain't even begin That's more ironic than a bum asking for 50 Cent from "Many Men", one Too many relays for DJs to replay I do the reject while I eject your new singlay Hot enough to sit in hell, then unveil in heatwave Piss on a demon with ice water And if I lose my voice then I'm probably calling out to all P.A Systems to assist in with the word I'm tryna spread Like county jail bread or the legs of a hoochie And that's off top like a toupee, I'm 2Pac Coming back for doomsday, spitting at cops, go and cop my album Get high to it, pop some valium, then turn up the volume I influence ghettos where it says caution And them larkins get to sparking like L.A. females that's balling Round the time this happens often, the violence get the flare We racing against life, the turtle or the hare? And nobody can compare to the legacy that we bout to build Y'all work at Build-A-Bear's office, underhand pitching with skills Shit, and ain't no use in crying over spilt milk You're dead and gone The pall-bearers carry you and your family will carry on And on the real, this ain't a construction site but you know the drill We lead the league in all aspects And we deserve more medals/metals than a magnet Put you niggas in a hole like bad debt Shooting three pointers with the globe, nothing but nets Nigga, nothing but the best Every time we hit your tape deck niggas hit the deck I rhyme like a fucking TEC -9, and I 'Clown Posses' if they disrespect You looking at T-Rex snapping at a winter rest Yeah, this the flow that killed aspiring rappers Too late, I grab the eight and start expiring rappers Some shit only BIG and Pac could rap after And if they was alive, they would have to pay tithes I am God M.C.R. squares will disperse in despair, this is me motherfucker
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