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dj critical hype - nosetalgia (dopeman) lyrics
[verse 1: kendrick lamar]
you wanna see a dead body?
instrumentals from my momma’s christmas party
troubles on my mind
i still smell crime, my little brother crying
smokers repeatedly buying my sega genesis, either that
or my auntie was stealing it, hit the pipe and start feeling it
ooh, wee, cut me some slack, weed never did that
this was different, geez, louise, please help me relax
quantum physics could never show you the world i was in
when i was ten, back when nine ounces had got you ten
and nine times out of ten, n-ggas don’t pay attention
and when there’s tension in the air, nines come with extensions
my daddy turned a quarter piece to a four and a half
took a l, started selling soap fiends bubble bath
broke his nails misusing his pinky to treat his nose
shirt b-ttoned open, taco meat laying on his gold
i said, “daddy, one day, i’mma get you right with 36 zips
1000 grams of cocaine, then your name will be rich
now you can rock it up or sell it soft as leather interior
drop some ice cubes in it, deebo on perimeter”
he said, “son, how come you think you be my connect?”
i said, “pops, your -ss is washed up, with all due respect”
he said, “well, n-gga, then show me how it all makes sense”
go figure, motherf-cker, every verse is a brick, your son dope, n-gga
now reap what you sowed, n-gga (please reap what you sowed, n-gga)
i was born in ’87, my grand daddy a legend
now the same sh-t that y’all was smoking is my profession, let’s get it
[verse 2: pusha t]
twenty-plus years of selling johnson & johnson
i started out as a baby-faced monster
no wonder there’s diaper rash on my conscience
my t–thing ring was numbed by the nonsense
gem star razor and a dinner plate
arm & hammer and a mason jar, that’s my dinner date
then crack the window in the kitchen, let it ventilate
’cause i let it sizzle on the stove like a minute steak
n-gga, i was crack in the school zone
two beepers on me, starter jacket that was two-toned
four lockers, four different b-tches got their mule on
black ferris bueller, cutting school with his jewels on
couldn’t do wrong with a chest full of chains and a arm full of watches
what i sell for pain in the hood, i’m a doctor
zhivago tried to fight the urge like ivan drago, if he dies, he dies
like doughboy to tre, if he rides, he rides
throwing punches in his room, if he cries, he cries
we don’t drink away the pain, when a n-gga die
we add a link to the chain, inscribe a n-gga name in your flesh
we playin’ on a higher game of chess
once you delegate his bills, who gon’ f-ck his b-tch the best?
a million megapixels of the pyrex
started on the scale digital, my only timex
n-gga, this is timeless, simply ’cause it’s honest
pure as the fumes that be f-ckin’ with my sinus
n-gga, this is simon says, simon red
blood on your diamonds ’til you dying – dead; yuugh!
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