Kendrick Lamar, Ab-Soul, Punch - West Coast Wu-Tang lyrics
Kendrick Lamarс [Duckworth] Compton, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
Ab-Soul [Herbert Anthony Stevens IV] Los Angeles, California, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Kendrick Lamar, Ab-Soul, Punch - West Coast Wu-Tang lyrics]
Whoo Ha! Backpack raps with gats in it
Don't get your cap peeled
By the black menace k-Dot thoroughbred
Move like a militant soldier
On point like a pyramid
A forced to be reckoned with
Fuck with the best shit
Like the strongest manure
I'm ready when you are this is it
I'm in the lab cooking up all day
Fuck 'em up all day like a nympho
I been dope since S curl waves
Trying to convince hoes I got good hair
Knowing damn well there's chemicals there
I'm in the hood with the 17
Year-olds that's on hood patrol
And they want stripes
So they shoot off bikes
And you know any moment you
Can lose your life
So kiss your kids and hug your wife
And what not yo i spar with a dragon
He tried to throw a flame but I ducked
Then I stabbed him and came
Out the battle laughin'
That's a metaphor for any
Rapper who wants it
I smack 'em til their nose is running
You know the hoes is coming if I'm there
And the hoes is cumming once we hit the hotel
There's no assumptions
Cool out before I move out, hop on the 105
Do about 105 before your ass gets
Threw out the back seat
(There's a dead guy on the freeway)
Oh, It's not Dot? Tell the medics it's okay
A beast when the beat break
You probably think I'm dope like this
The realest shit I wrote
But to me, it's a throw-away
I stare at the four walls and
Rap like I'm mad at God
Nice enough to throw a spear at Nas
Launch at Jay, matter fact
Let me take that back
See I don't fuck with real legends
In rap like you do i'm crucial
Concealed by real crips and suwoo
And they shoot like photography students
When beef gets to brewing
Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel
You rappers got nothing for me
When Sound-Sounwave record me
Every MC, I'm sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forgive them
Come again, no introduction, you know my name
Soul brother
Dueces suck the juice from my ding-a-ling
Orangutan arms banging niggas like a set
When I speak
They fucking silent like sex for the deaf
Violence, I play it like
Violins in the orchestra
Treat you like vitamins then
Spit you back out
Like a verse I had way back
Before I had it mapped out
Rip a page out the Almanac then
Cross reference when I wreck shit
I wish jaw bone fractures on all
Of you rappers bumping your gums
Like the measles when the
Record meets the needle
Heads spinning like a twelve-inch
Smoking the best Celtic
Like I shot Larry Bird, follow my word
Big Herb, Ill with it, I need a hospital gown
You need 54 cards, deal with it
You may think I'm killing it
But I'm healing it
Like a bitch in the club, Shoe game
Ay yo yo, the flow potent
Who's more focused? Kick doors open
Deliver the golden opus leave
With two guns smoking
It's me, the podium closing
A poet well-spoken
The gropes is most consistent
With imminent penmanship
Mind-bending, co-existing with the written
Verbal assassin, Internally smashing
Spazzing on tracks
Translation, I'm disgusting in action
A lyrical glutton busting
Over Sounwave productions
Y'all don't want nothing
The sum of all fears
Mercury rising, I'm summer all year
I sixteen 'em to death and
Wish them the best
I guess that's the gift and a curse
You see my pattering
Y'all still rapping like
That's what's happening
I write rhymes with fire on stone tablets
Peep the malice, I'm a monster
Ya Boy running like William
Joseph Crawford touche
Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel
You rappers got nothing for me
When Sound-Sounwave record me
Every MC, I'm sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forgive them
Straight up, Don't get ate up
Put rappers in quicksand
Dot leaned on 'em like kickstands
I'm so hot, kids put me in their iPod
Even atheists play my shit and say
"My God, Jesus, Joseph, and Mary
He's nice" don't compare me to them
Just compare me to Mike Jordan
When I record and the verse
And the chorus is ill you can land in lab of
Fortune when biting my skills, playa'
Watch I lay-up bar after bar like I'm
Trying to build a gate up
See me on the way up like an elevator
I'mma let you take the stairs
That metaphor meaning I'm already there
(Greatness) i'm in the booth with an apron
Cooking up shit like Martha
Stewart was my bitch, amen
Stay on the curb like a spray day tan?
Blowing herb with my nigga Herb
Fuck what you niggas heard
We the new West Coast Wu Tang
Bitch and I'm the best
Think less, You can suck my dick
Who from the West can kill it
Like us? Give me their name
Now I take 'em to the house of pain
Top Dawg headquarters
Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel
You rappers got nothing for me
When Sound-Sounwave record me
Every MC, I'm sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forgive them
Don't get your cap peeled
By the black menace k-Dot thoroughbred
Move like a militant soldier
On point like a pyramid
A forced to be reckoned with
Fuck with the best shit
Like the strongest manure
I'm ready when you are this is it
I'm in the lab cooking up all day
Fuck 'em up all day like a nympho
I been dope since S curl waves
Trying to convince hoes I got good hair
Knowing damn well there's chemicals there
I'm in the hood with the 17
Year-olds that's on hood patrol
And they want stripes
So they shoot off bikes
And you know any moment you
Can lose your life
So kiss your kids and hug your wife
And what not yo i spar with a dragon
He tried to throw a flame but I ducked
Then I stabbed him and came
Out the battle laughin'
That's a metaphor for any
Rapper who wants it
I smack 'em til their nose is running
You know the hoes is coming if I'm there
And the hoes is cumming once we hit the hotel
There's no assumptions
Cool out before I move out, hop on the 105
Do about 105 before your ass gets
Threw out the back seat
(There's a dead guy on the freeway)
Oh, It's not Dot? Tell the medics it's okay
A beast when the beat break
You probably think I'm dope like this
The realest shit I wrote
But to me, it's a throw-away
I stare at the four walls and
Rap like I'm mad at God
Nice enough to throw a spear at Nas
Launch at Jay, matter fact
Let me take that back
See I don't fuck with real legends
In rap like you do i'm crucial
Concealed by real crips and suwoo
And they shoot like photography students
When beef gets to brewing
Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel
You rappers got nothing for me
When Sound-Sounwave record me
Every MC, I'm sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forgive them
Come again, no introduction, you know my name
Soul brother
Dueces suck the juice from my ding-a-ling
Orangutan arms banging niggas like a set
When I speak
They fucking silent like sex for the deaf
Violence, I play it like
Violins in the orchestra
Treat you like vitamins then
Spit you back out
Like a verse I had way back
Before I had it mapped out
Rip a page out the Almanac then
Cross reference when I wreck shit
I wish jaw bone fractures on all
Of you rappers bumping your gums
Like the measles when the
Record meets the needle
Heads spinning like a twelve-inch
Smoking the best Celtic
Like I shot Larry Bird, follow my word
Big Herb, Ill with it, I need a hospital gown
You need 54 cards, deal with it
You may think I'm killing it
But I'm healing it
Like a bitch in the club, Shoe game
Ay yo yo, the flow potent
Who's more focused? Kick doors open
Deliver the golden opus leave
With two guns smoking
It's me, the podium closing
A poet well-spoken
The gropes is most consistent
With imminent penmanship
Mind-bending, co-existing with the written
Verbal assassin, Internally smashing
Spazzing on tracks
Translation, I'm disgusting in action
A lyrical glutton busting
Over Sounwave productions
Y'all don't want nothing
The sum of all fears
Mercury rising, I'm summer all year
I sixteen 'em to death and
Wish them the best
I guess that's the gift and a curse
You see my pattering
Y'all still rapping like
That's what's happening
I write rhymes with fire on stone tablets
Peep the malice, I'm a monster
Ya Boy running like William
Joseph Crawford touche
Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel
You rappers got nothing for me
When Sound-Sounwave record me
Every MC, I'm sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forgive them
Straight up, Don't get ate up
Put rappers in quicksand
Dot leaned on 'em like kickstands
I'm so hot, kids put me in their iPod
Even atheists play my shit and say
"My God, Jesus, Joseph, and Mary
He's nice" don't compare me to them
Just compare me to Mike Jordan
When I record and the verse
And the chorus is ill you can land in lab of
Fortune when biting my skills, playa'
Watch I lay-up bar after bar like I'm
Trying to build a gate up
See me on the way up like an elevator
I'mma let you take the stairs
That metaphor meaning I'm already there
(Greatness) i'm in the booth with an apron
Cooking up shit like Martha
Stewart was my bitch, amen
Stay on the curb like a spray day tan?
Blowing herb with my nigga Herb
Fuck what you niggas heard
We the new West Coast Wu Tang
Bitch and I'm the best
Think less, You can suck my dick
Who from the West can kill it
Like us? Give me their name
Now I take 'em to the house of pain
Top Dawg headquarters
Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel, son
Tell me how you feel
You rappers got nothing for me
When Sound-Sounwave record me
Every MC, I'm sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forgive them