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• Artiste: Kendrick Lamar
• Titre: Blow My High
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Smoking out, pouring up, keep that lean up in my cup All my car got leather and wood in my hood we call it buck Everybody wanna ball, holla at broads at the mall If he up, watch him fall, I can't fuck with y'all (Pussy ass ho niggas) I can't fuck with y'all (Bitches all up in my business) I can't fuck with y'all (Industry of counterfeits) I can't fuck with y'all Taking off when you landing Bitch niggas wanna throw tantrums And I'm dancing on them stars The galaxy ain't got room for y'all Ain't nothing gonna happen soon for y'all While I'm here and every day I hear Your bullshit, self-pity Reason why you never dealt with me Reason why your girl dealt with me Hands up, in the building, we get busy and say R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep, R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep That's exactly what this sound like A to the A to the L-I-Y-A-H, give it up 2 times Then give it right back, don't blow my high Smoking out, pouring up, keep that lean up in my cup All my car got leather and wood in my hood we call it buck Everybody wanna ball, holla at broads at the mall If he up, watch him fall, I can't fuck with y'all (Pussy ass ho niggas) I can't fuck with y'all (Bitches all up in my business) I can't fuck with y'all (Industry of counterfeits) I can't fuck with y'all Look at my life then look at yours Get some ambition, why you bored? Time'll never wait on no man Society will never hold your hand Niggas like the gossip, like bitches Got me thinking you don't like bitches Wonder what's behind them Ray Bans Eyes of a coward, I understand Niggas like the gossip, like bitches Sip Don Perignon, when we finish, we say R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep, R.I.P. Aaliyah, R.I.P., yep That's exactly what this sound like But never will I ever forget Left Eye Roll up, put a ribbon in the sky And a button on your lips, don't blow my high Smoking out, pouring up, keep that lean up in my cup All my car got leather and wood in my hood we call it buck Everybody wanna ball, holla at broads at the mall If he up, watch him fall, I can't fuck with y'all (Pussy ass ho niggas) I can't fuck with y'all (Bitches all up in my business) I can't fuck with y'all (Industry of counterfeits) I can't fuck with y'all Now everybody singing this shit I'm sending him a four-page letter, and I enclosed it with a kiss And when I write him he better get it on time Look at my life, and look at yours Get some ambition why you bored