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M.A.A.d city 2
by
Kendrick Lamar
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Lyrics
(Volume increases with 2Pac talking in the background:) ...It's gone be like Nat Turner, 1831 Aye, on my mama, n***a I'ma be the greatest to ever do this sh*t On, my mama, though, like But, I told 'em "I can't sugarcoat the answer for you This is how I feel: If somebody kill my son, that mean somebody getting killed" Tell me what you do for love Loyalty and passion of all the memories collected Moments you could never touch Let somebody touch my mama, touch my sister, touch my woman, touch my daddy, touch my niece, touch my nephew, touch my brothеr You should chip a n***a ten toes or blow it in his lap Matter fact, I'm 'bout to spеak at this convention Call you back *phone and receiver encounter* Black cop Steady stressin' Smith & Wesson's Count my blessings, class is in session The worst question is the first question Why do we work like slaves, sweating blades, to an early grave? Never got paid, but still we swear even the [?] Answer that, then answer this, too Thug's gonna get you; you know it's true Life's a b*t*h, true You besta backtrack, and try to act black And live; not to be phony and bother-ive But why be negative? What's the matter, G, black cat got your tongue Fact: track got you sprung Now you hum (Do you feel me?) Dum-dum-ditty, it's a meet Attention, reach each and every brotha' on the streets If not peace, then at least let's get a piece I'm tired of seeing bodies on the street, deceased Looking through my high school yearbook Reminiscing of the tears as the years took One homie, two homie, three homies, poof! We used to have juice, but now there's no more youth to shoot God come save the [?] Lost, ghetto souls of black Comp'n
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