Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Black Boy Fly, artist - Kendrick Lamar.
Date of issue: 31.12.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Black Boy Fly |
So I’m saying, «What up? |
What up? |
Nigga, you made it» |
So I’m saying, «What up? |
What up? |
Nigga, you made it» |
So I’m saying, «What up? |
What up? |
Nigga, you made it» |
So I’m saying, «What up? |
What up? |
Nigga, I hate it» |
So I’m saying, «What up? |
What up? |
Nigga, I hate it» |
Frustrated and I’m riding down them back streets |
Making my conscience ask me |
«Will I survive to make it up out this hole in time?» |
Black boy fly, black boy fly |
Black, black boy fly, black boy fly |
I used to be jealous of Arron Afflalo |
I used to be jealous of Arron Afflalo |
He was the one to follow |
He was the only leader foreseeing brighter tomorrows |
He would live in the gym, we was living in sorrow |
Total envy of him, he made his dream become a reality |
Actually making it possible to swim |
His way up outta Compton with further more to accomplish |
Graduate with honors, a sponsor of basketball scholars |
It’s 2004 and I’m watching him score thirty |
Remember vividly how them victory points had hurt me |
'Cause every basket was a reaction or a reminder |
That we was just moving backwards |
The bungalow where you find us |
The art of us ditching classes, heading nowhere fast |
Stick my head inside the study hall, he focused on math |
Determination ambition, plus dedication and wisdom |
Qualities he was given was the shit we didn’t have |
Dug inside of his book bag and Coach Palmer asked for his finals |
He had his back like a spinal, meanwhile |
We singing the same old song spinning the vinyl |
Eleven graders gone wrong |
He focused on the NBA, we focused on some Patron |
Now watch that black boy fly |
Black boy fly, watch that black boy fly |
Black boy fly, watch that black boy fly |
Black boy fly, watch that black boy fly |
Black boy |
I used to be jealous of Jayceon |
I used to be jealous of Jayceon Taylor when I was young |
Taylor made a career out of music from writing songs |
A Buick had driven past bumping him when I mowed the lawn |
Money laundering hustling, homies pondering up against |
Schemes to make a million even if doing you harm |
War’s the case and just in case you wasn’t alarmed |
The city had fought with firearms and many had died before dawn |
It’s 2004 and I’m hearing the people roar |
For the name of The Game, they line in front of the store |
Swap meets, selling our mixtapes, I’m like, «Oh shit, wait» |
Don’t wanna be another nigga stuck regretting mistakes |
Mixed feelings was my opinion, I was defending my insecurities |
Chillin' my conscience next to a villain |
Compton made you believe success wasn’t real |
Be honest, none of us knew of a record deal |
So as I peel through these lottery tickets |
I see a Harley Davidson truck visit the same plaza we shopped |
A tall nigga hopped out with Jordans and a white tank top |
He was top of the rap game, we was the top of the block |
So watch that black boy fly |
Black boy fly, watch that black boy fly |
Black boy fly, watch that black boy fly |
Black boy fly, watch that black boy fly |
Black boy |
My mama didn’t raise me up to be jealous-hearted |
Like most of the winners call it |
Regardless of where you stay, hold your head and continue marching |
That’s what she said, but in my head I wanted to be like Jordan |
Award touring the country with money from mic recording |
The only way out the ghetto, you know the stereotype |
Shooting hoops or live on the stereo like Top 40 |
And shortly, I got discouraged |
Like every time I walked to the corner, had them guns bursting |
Nigga, I was rehearsing in repetition the phrase |
That only one in a million will ever see better days |
Especially when the crime waves was bigger than tsunamis |
Break your boogie boards to pieces, you just a typical homie |
All these niggas facetious and they all standing beside me |
They all’ll buy me a chopper if any one of you try me |
What am I to do when every neighborhood is an obstacle? |
When two niggas making it out had never sounded logical? |
Three niggas making it out? |
That’s mission impossible |
So I never believed the type of performance that I could do |
I wasn’t jealous cause of the talents they got |
I was terrified they’d be the last black boys to fly out of Compton |
Thank God |
(Black boy fly, watch that black boy fly) |