Kendrick Lamar, Jay Rock, Ab-Soul, Black Hippy - Home Grown Radio Freestyle lyrics

Look, yeah fuck the critics
They don't know I spit it for
The dub on my fitted
I wear it like a pendant
Rock's city don dada who hotta?
Nada lA crews, Mufasa
Shoutout to old crews
Represent the same casa
West coast product 2009
They still trippin' off the cest smoke
Show me a dime
Kill a pussy with my death stroke, every time
You best know, my style canal
I got the best flow i stay with the pound
So I'm good from the ground up
Let me take ya soul, I ain't fuckin' around
Nah, blood, cuz, or whatever
That get the shut up like Cheeto puffs
Keep bad boy o's that we gon' puff
Jay Rock what?
Top Dawg run the game let 'em know

Back by popular demands
Give it to you fresh out the kitchen
Pots, pans, hope my parents riches
Spit it like I had denchers
Suicidal thoughts
Got me feelin' like Sean Kingston
Hip-hop with precision

We talkin' global
Perform global warming, ha all them drops
I dropped a hundred down today
Yo' mouth drop
Top missin' like a dropped toupee
I'm goin' through tracks
Like Jerome Bett-is
So fast you get whiplash or head-ache
Bars like Alcatraz, never been felon
But I spit it well to all
The men in county jails
Dwell, on the fact that
Yo' plummet record sales
Make you clumsy with the gat

Yo, I'm so far ahead of my time
Finna lap my damn self
I'm still in the hood, like a fan belt
The fan mail comin' in bulk, hop on a bull
Every time you wanna see it
Reminds me of the flow
See notes like a treble clef
Step to the best and see
Why these niggas fall short
Like I tripped the dwarf from
Torn from a different cloth
Warned by a different boss
The art soon will make y'all crumble
I'm humble, but still anybody could get it
Fuck y'all
This verse is sexually transmitted
Never timid
I'm winnin' like I got dibs on it
State of mind so large
We could all live on it
Start a new community
I remain the winner, on my grizzy
Might even hibernate this winter

And I'm still on some boss shit
Like, I don't care how much it cost shit
Yeah, nigga, I'm a mack
So much pussy on the line
I don't know what the snatch
Yeah, Ab-Soul light a match
Got the killa outside
Let's smoke ugh, K Dot
Compton city lyricist don't wack niggas
Yeah I know they fearin' this