Kendrick Lamar, Jay Rock, Ab-Soul, BO - Topdawg Ent. lyrics

[Kendrick Lamar, Jay Rock, Ab-Soul, BO - Topdawg Ent. lyrics]

Tonight's the night I jump on my shh uh huh?
Lyrical mayhem
Rappers get laid down when I kick
K rounds, a transformer how I break down
Nouns and verbs
You just stumble over your words
So in love with my shit
They save it in pampers
The only pull ups be the drive by
When I pull up then pull out
Whatever you did shout I put up
Then take the residuals after leaving
Your body in critical

Fuck 'em all though
More drive than a car show
Four five in the console
Call me Soul Eastwood
Lyrical gun slanging’ and a corral
Full of wild niggas pC shut down niggas
It's PE i run around niggas
You shawn pope you just sound bigger
You bad boys bite the brick
Like snitches bite bullets no diss to Diddy
That's just how I like to put it

Living’ life crooked like a neck
Muscle after you pull it
187, look at the footage
Like O-Dawg, and oh you Oh Dog
You either pay up
Or have your daughter makin’
That ransom phone call
Player, I don’t tolerate niggas
Who fabricate stories
Who says you did what (what?)
I’m sounding like Noreaga for the paper
One leg to erase ya, kinda ironic

Calling the shots like Chick Hearn in intern
Your chick hair fall in my crotch
Follow me pop
Spit champagne, they should bottle me up
We on the edge like when my
Barber be lining me up
Never pledge allegiance
My mom must've done bred a demon
My pop must've done shot
Bullets instead a semen
I led a legion of doom cramped up in the womb
And started teething the day I heard a beat
Let's eat

Yeah, Top Dawg E-N T
And it's 187 on a muthafuckin' beat
Yeah, Top Dawg E-N T
And it's 187 on a muthafuckin' beat
Yeah, Top Dawg E-N T
And it's 187 on a muthafuckin' beat

Yeah, Jay Rock, Watts ambassador
Big truck, paint color Almond Joy
Black choppers seem like the commodores
Get money, fuck bitches, do it like a chore
That's the routine, 24 hours
More money, more power, fuck problems
Pop my collar, hit clubs and pop bottles
For the dollars I’m Master P, 'Bout It
'Bout It

Take a look at my wrist now look at my
It feels like I have a fuckin’ jukebox on
You niggas ain’t hot, you niggas lukewarm
And I had swag ever since I was born
And every car I drive, yes it must be foreign
So when I ride by your bitch yelling popcorn
I get up under your skin
Yes I’m a fuckin' thorn
And they have a stash spot
And you just been warned, bitch

Game said it first, I’m the next out the west
Want a test? Knock your spirit
Up out your flesh who’s the best rapper
I’m his favorite rapper
Too Fresh like a nigga still in the wrapper
I’m the shit like a nigga still in a pamper
Hit a booth
Kill a track then we light candles
187 everytime I spit a scripture
Jay Rock, Watt City, I’m the perfect picture

You ain’t gotta worry about who’s hotter
I been poppin’ collars
Been making it rain in the club
I been about my dollars
I can’t seen colors, I’m colorblind
So when you hit me up
All you gon' see is fuckin' dollar signs
Got my motivation, my nigga stay on the grind
Even if it's back on the
Block pushing nickels and dimes
Addicted to crime, I fuck with known felons
Top Dawg E-N T, that's what they yelling
Nigga (easy)

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