Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song m.A.A.d city, artist - Kendrick Lamar.
Date of issue: 31.12.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
m.A.A.d city |
If Pirus and Crips all got along |
They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song |
Seem like the whole city go against me |
Every time I'm in the street, I hear |
YAWK! |
YAWK! |
YAWK! |
YAWK! |
"Man down, where you from, nigga?" |
"Fuck who you know! Where you from, my nigga?" |
"Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?" |
"This m.A.A.d city I run, my nigga" |
Brace yourself, I'll take you on a trip down memory lane |
This is not a rap on how I'm slingin' crack or move cocaine |
This is cul-de-sac and plenty Cognac and major pain |
Not the drill sergeant, but the stress that weighin' on your brain |
It was me, L Boog, and Yan Yan, YG Lucky ride down Rosecrans |
It got ugly, wavin' yo' hand out the window – check yourself! |
Uh, Warriors and Conans, Hope euphoria can slow dance |
With society, the driver seat the first one to get killed |
Seen a light-skinned nigga with his brains blown out |
At the same burger stand where *beep* hang out |
Now this is not a tape recorder sayin' that he did it |
But ever since that day, I was lookin' at him different |
That was back when I was nine, Joey packed the nine |
Pakistan on every porch is fine, we adapt to crime |
Pack a van with four guns at a time |
With the sliding door, fuck is up? |
Fuck you shootin' for if you ain't walkin' up, you fuckin' punk? |
Pickin' up the fuckin' pump, pickin' off you suckers |
Suck a dick or die or sucker punch |
A wall of bullets comin' from AK's, AR's, "Ayy, y'all, duck!" |
That's what Momma said when we was eatin' the free lunch |
Aw man, goddamn, all hell broke loose |
You killed my cousin back in '94, fuck yo' truce! |
Now crawl your head in that noose |
You wind up dead on the news |
Ain't no peace treaty, just pieces BG's up to pre-approve |
Bodies on top of bodies, IV's on top of IV's |
Obviously the coroner between the sheets like the Isleys |
When you hop on that trolley, make sure your colors correct |
Make sure you're corporate or they'll be callin' your mother collect |
They say the governor collect all of our taxes, except |
When we in traffic and tragic happens, that shit ain't no threat |
You movin' backwards if you suggest that you sleep with a TEC |
Go buy a chopper and have a doctor on speed dial, I guess |
M.A.A.d city |
"Man down, where you from, nigga?" |
"Fuck who you know! Where you from, my nigga?" |
"Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?" |
"This m.A.A.d city I run, my nigga" |
If Pirus and Crips all got along |
They'd probably gun me down by the end of this song |
Seem like the whole city go against me |
Every time I'm in the street, I hear— |
YAWK! |
YAWK! |
YAWK! |
Wake yo' punk-ass up! |
It ain't nothin' but a Compton thang |
G-yeah, real simple and plain |
Let me teach you some lessons about the street |
(Smoke somethin', nigga!) |
Hood ('Sup, Cuz?) |
It ain't nothin' but a Compton thang |
G-yeah, how we do |
Fresh outta school 'cause I was a high school grad |
Sleepin' in the living room of my momma's pad |
Reality struck, I seen the white car crash |
Hit the light pole, two niggas hopped out on foot and dashed |
My pops said I needed a job, I thought I believed him |
Security guard for a month and ended up leavin' |
In fact, I got fired, 'cause I was inspired by all of my friends |
To stage a robbery the third Saturday I clocked in |
Projects tore up, gang signs get thrown up |
Cocaine laced in marijuana |
And they wonder why I rarely smoke now |
Imagine if your first blunt had you foamin' at the mouth |
I was straight tweakin', the next weekend we broke even |
I made allegiance that made a promise to see you bleedin' |
You know the reasons but still will never know my life |
Kendrick a.k.a. "Compton's Human Sacrifice" |
G-yeah, cocaine, weed |
Niggas been mixin' shit since the '80s, loc |
Sherm sticks, butt-nakeds |
Dip, make a nigga flip |
Cluck heads all up and down the block and shit |
One time's crooked and shit |
Block a nigga in |
Alondra, Rosecrans, Bullis, it's Compton |
I'm still in the hood, loc, yeah, that's cool |
Shit, the hood took me under, so I follow the rules |
But yeah, that's like me, I grew up in the hood where they bang |
And niggas that rep colors is doin' the same thang |
Pass it to the left so I can smoke on me |
A couple drive-by's in the hood lately |
Couple of IV's with the fuckin' spray-can |
Shots in the crowd, then everybody ran |
Crew I'm finna slay, the street life I crave |
Shots hit the enemy, hearts turn brave |
Mount up, regulators in the whip |
Down the boulevard with the pistol grip |
Trip, we in the hood still |
So, loc, grab a strap 'cause yeah, it's so real |
Deal with the outcome, a strap in the hand |
And a bird and ten grand's where a mothafucka stand |
If I told you I killed a nigga at sixteen, would you believe me? |
Or see me to be innocent Kendrick you seen in the street |
With a basketball and some Now and Laters to eat? |
If I mentioned all of my skeletons, would you jump in the seat? |
Would you say my intelligence now is great relief? |
And it's safe to say that our next generation maybe can sleep |
With dreams of bein' a lawyer or doctor |
Instead of boy with a chopper that hold the cul-de-sac hostage |
Kill 'em all if they gossip |
The Children of the Corn, they vandalizin' the option |
Of livin' a lie, drown their body with toxins |
Constantly drinkin' and drive |
Hit the powder, then watch this flame that arrive in his eye |
Listen, coward, the concept is aim and then bang it and slide |
Out that bitch with deposit, a price on his head, the tithes |
Probably go to the projects, I |
Live inside the belly of the rough, Compton, USA |
Made Me an Angel on Angel Dust, what! |
M.A.A.d city |
Compton |
Nigga, pass Dot the bottle, damn! |
You ain't the one that got fucked up |
What you holdin' it for? |
Niggas always actin' unsensitive and shit |
Nigga, that ain't no word |
Nigga, shut up! |
Hey, Dot, you good, my nigga? |
Don't even trip |
Just lay back and drink that |