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Turn the headphones up Ali One two You mix with Dre, right? Turn the headphones up When the whole world see you as Pac reincarnated That's enough pressure to live your whole life sedated Find the tallest building in Vegas and jump off it But I could never rewrite history in a coffin So I'm talking to God, "Can you wash all these demons off me?" This last year I've been quite similar to Aaliyah Control my own destiny, only rapper that steered A G5, g's give high-fives to me and say, "Kendrick, just persevere." The presence of being real As I lay in this four corner room staring at candles Thinking, "How can I make an example, for this generation of Compton?" My biggest fear is not feeling accomplished Or turning back to that same accomplice My past life was a child with no act right Trying to smile in a room of killers, turn into a crash site Influenced by niggas that spoke the gang culture fluent Assuring that some blossom early and some truant Thank God for the album I idolized It's dark and plus hell is hot, that's the start of this crazy ride Two young niggas, me and Dave inside the garage And thought we was Jay and Dame Thats the lane that we tried to drive Truthfully, I just started rappin' to get away I never thought that your favorite rapper would want a verse My nigga got hit 25 times with a K Make the decision, ride the beat or ride in a hearse Now Punch is my mentor, Top Dawg is the coach Jay Rock is my older brother, I was there when he wrote His name on his record deal, we had figured the coast Would live on a pedestal, once the shit hit the store Found ourselves scrambling, tryna figure it out Soul told me that the record shop 'bout to go in a drought Q ain't got a place to stay, and 'bout to sleep on the couch We eating off each other tray, the dollar menu amount Meanwhile the coast going hard at each other The younger rappers had wanted some of the OGs' comfort But I ain't need it I never screamed out the 'New West', I didn't believe it They brought each other down, I was planning out my achievements I need to separate myself to stand out I need a better way to take your fans now I need to kill you motherfuckers dead Three hollow tips aimed at your head I'll be damned if the chopper jam now And we never asked for no hand out In the midst of it all I recall a call when you said how We could never resolve in The Hall of Fame And I'm with the trial with a Bible and a rifle I play the game as I plan blow Hollaback at me, nigga And if they said that I'm the one, why you asking me, nigga? Cause when the whole world see you as Pac reincarnated Enough pressure to make you just open the Book of David And pray to God that ya make it or live your life in the matrix Cause falling off is a sickness, I heard that it's quite contagious I need to separate myself to stand out I need a better way to take your fans now I need to kill you motherfuckers dead Three hollow tips aimed at your head I'll be damned if the chopper jam now And we never asked for no hand out I'll take you back to that pack of Black & Milds in my hand now In the midst of it all was cooking with pots and pans out Looking forward as four of us are forced to form a new clan now Fast forward as I wait in line for this passport The homies was still poor, was working at Jansport Whoever thought that Rosenberg would mention me to Dre? Even Vanessa from XXL had told him to press play And there goes my fate, now I'm on stage with Snoop Gave me the torch and I ran with it in high pursuit Rapped with my forefathers, even record with Gaga too Lyricist of the year, fuck am I supposed to do? Rock Laughing at you niggas out there who thought we was flukes Exaggerated shit that we rapped had came true Thought I was aggravated, when Warner had let me loose I was honest, see they was haunted when Mike Jones didn't recoup Cool, cause niggas won't outdo us in the booth Even when my album leak, fans still buy it for proof I came, I saw, I conquered No shame, I blame all of this on Compton Thinking about when Sherane tried to set me up Cold game, full circle, they set up her I put my life in these twelve songs, my fight in these twelve songs The fight to ignite any wrong or right that I prolong The story was short film, the glory of him and them The worry of mothers that don't recover when baby killed The trial and the tribulations, the newer Miseducation The view of a body wasting, you knew somebody who ain't make it The angry, the adolescent, the reason I ask this question Will you let Hip-Hop die on October 22nd? Will you let Hip-Hop die on October 22nd?
Writer(s): Writer Unknown, Kendrick Lamar