Kendrick Lamar – WestCoast Wu-Tang Lyrics

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[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar]
Yeah
Its that West
HOO HA!!
Back Pack Raps
Where gats say they don’t get your peeled by the black menace
Its K-dot thorough bred
Move like a militant
Soldier, on point like a pyramid
Force to be reckoned with
Fuck with the best shit
Like the strongest maneuver
I’m ready when you are
This is it, I’m in the lab cooking up all day
Fuck them up all day
Like a nympho
, I’ve been dope since S curl waves
Trying to convince hoes I got good hair
You know 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 could lose your life
So kiss your kids and hug your wife

Or what not
Yo
I spar with a dragon
It tried to throw a flame, but I ducked and I stabbed him
Came out the battle laughin’
That’s a metaphor for any rapper who want it
I smack them ‘till they nose is runnin’
You know the hoes is coming if I’m there
And the hoes is coming
Once we hit the hotel
There’s no assumption

Cool out before I move out
I bone a 105
Do about 105
Before your ass get threw out
The backseat

There’s a dead guy on the freeway
Ohh its not dot?
Tell the medics its ok

A beast with a beat break
You probably think I’m dope
Like it’s the realist shit I wrote
But to me it’s a throw away

Stare at the four walls and rap like I’m mad at god
Nice enough to throw a spear at Nas
Launched 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 soo-woops
And they shoot
Like photography students

When beef gets to brewin’

[Hook]
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 feeeeel

You rap pussies got nothing for me
Once (I’m sound wave recording?)
Every MC I’m sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forget them


[Verse 2: Ab Soul]
Come again
No introduction you know my name
Soul brother
You suck the juice from my ding-a-ling
Orangutan arms banging niggas like a set
When I speech they fucking silent
Like sex for the deaf

Violence I play it like violins in a orchestra
Chew you like vitamins then spit you back out
Like a verse I had way back
Before I had mapped out
Rip a page out the almanac
To cross reference
When I wreck shit
I wish jaw bone fractures
On all of you rappers

Bumping your gods
Like the measles
When the record meets the needle
Hands spinnin’like a 12 inch
Smoking the best (lt?)
Like I shot every bird

Follow my word
Big heard
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
Shoot game
Two chains

[Verse 3: Punch]
Ayo yo
The flow poet
Who more focused
Kick doors open
Delivering the golden (?)
Leave with two guns smoking
It’s me
The podium closing poet
Well spoken
It (grows?) the most consistent
With imminent penmanship
Mind bending coexisting with the written verbal assassin
Eternally smashin’, spazzin' on tracks
Translation I’m disgusting in action
Lyrical gluten with bustin’ over sound waves production
Y'all want nothin’
The sum of all fears
Mercury risin’ I’m summer all year
I (16?) them to death
And wish them the best
I guess that’s the gift and the curse
You see my pattern and
Y'all still rapping
Like that’s whats happenin’
I write rhymes
Put fire on stone tablets
Peep the (malice?) I’m a monster
Your boy running like
Like William Joseph Crawford


[Hook]
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 feeeeel

You rap pussies got nothing for me
Once (I’m sound wave recording?)
Every MC I’m sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forget them

[Verse 4: Kendrick Lamar]
Haaaa
(?) up
(no kid hate up?)
Put rappers in quick sand
Dot leaned on them like kickstands
Im so hot
Kids put me on 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’m recordin’

The verse and the chorus is ill
You can land in the lap of fortune when biting my skills
Playa’
Watch as 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’m gonna 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 curve like a (?)
Blowing herb with my nigga (earl?)
Fuck what you niggas heard
We that new westcoast 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 they name
And I’ma take them to the house of pain
Top Dawg headquarters
Haaa

[Hook: Backround]
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 feeeeel

You rap pussies got nothing for me
Once (I’m sound wave recording?)
Every MC I’m sure to rip them
I guarantee you will forget them

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