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Kendrick Lamar

Genres: Hip-Hop

Xxx. Lyrics - Kendrick Lamar

America, God bless you if it's good to you 

America please take my hand 

Can you help me underst- 

New Kung Fu Kenny 

 

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Throw a steak off the yacht 

To a pool full of sharks, he'll take it 

Leave him in the wilderness 

With a sworn nemesis, he'll make it 

Take the gratitude from him 

I bet he'll show you something, woah 

I'll chip a nigga little bit of nothing 

I'll chip a nigga little bit of nothing 

I'll chip a nigga little bit of nothing 

I'll chip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap 

Walk myself to the court like bitch I did that x-rated 

Johnny don't wanna go to school no more, no more 

Johnny said books ain't cool no more (no more) 

Johnny wanna be a rapper like his big cousin 

Johnny caught a body yesterday out hustlin' 

God bless America you know we all love him 

Yesterday I got a call like from my dog like 101 

Said they killed his only son because of insufficient funds 

He was sobbin', he was mobbin', way belligerent and drunk 

Talkin' out his head philosphing on what the lord had done 

He said, "K-Dot can you pray for me? 

It's been a fucked up day for me 

I know that you anointed, show me how to overcome" 

He was lookin' for some closure 

Hopin' I could bring him closer 

To the spiritual, my spirit do no better, but I told him 

"I can't sugar coat the answer for you 

This is how I feel—if somebody kill my son 

That mean somebody's gettin' killed" 

Tell me what you do for love, loyalty, and passion of 

All the memories collected, moments you could never touch 

I wait in front a niggas spot and watch him hit his block 

I'll catch a nigga leavin' service if that's all I got 

I'll chip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap 

Walk myself to the court like, "Bitch I did that" 

Ain't no black power when your baby killed by a coward 

I can't even keep the peace, don't you fuck with one of ours 

It be murder in the street, it be bodies in the hour 

Ghetto bird on the street, paramedics on the dial 

Let somebody touch my momma 

Touch my sister, touch my woman 

Touch my daddy, touch my niece 

Touch my nephew, touch my brother 

You should chip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap 

Matter fact, I'm 'bout to speak at this convention 

Call you back 

 

Photos 

 

Alright kids we're gonna talk about gun control 

(Pray for me) 

Damn 

 

It's not a place 

This country is to be a sound of drum and bass 

You close your eyes to look around 

 

Hail Mary, Jesus and Joseph 

The great American flag 

Is wrapped and dragged with explosives 

Compulsive disorder, sons and daughters 

Barricaded blocks and borders 

Look what you taught us 

It's murder on my street, w'all street, back streets 

Wall street, corporate offices, banks 

Employees and bosses with homicidal thoughts 

Donald Trump's in office, we lost Barack 

And promised to never doubt him again 

But is America honest or do we bask in sin? 

Pass the gin, I mix it with American blood 

Then bash him in, you crippin'ìg or you married to blood? 

I'll ask again—oops—accident 

It's nasty when you set us up 

Then roll the dice, then bet us up 

You overnight the big rifles, then tell Fox to be scared of us 

Gang members or terrorists, et cetera, et cetera 

Americas reflections of me 

That's what a mirror does 

 

It's not a place 

This country is to be a sound of drum and bass 

You close your eyes to look ar- 

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