Ab-Soul
Top Dawg Ent.
[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar]
Tonight's the night I jump on my shh... uh huh?
Lyrical mayhem, rappers get laid down when I kick
Saliva K rounds, a transformer how I break down
Nouns and verbs, you just stumble over your words
So in love with my shit they save it in pampers
The only pull ups be the drive by when I pull up then pull out
Whatever you did shout I put up
Then take the residuals after leaving your body in critical

[Verse 2: Ab-Soul]
Fuck 'em all though, more drive than a car show
Four five in the console, call me Soul Eastwood
Lyrical gun slanging’ and a corral full of wild n***as
PC shut down n***as, it's P.E. I run around n***as
You shawn pope you just sound bigger
You bad boys bite the brick like snitches bite bullets
No diss to Diddy, that's just how I like to put it

[Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar]
Living’ life crooked like a neck muscle after you pull it
187, look at the footage
Like O-Dawg, and oh you owe, dog? Either pay up
Or have your daughter makin’ that ransom phone call
Player, I don’t tolerate n***as who fabricate stories
Who says you did what (what?)
I’m sounding like Noreaga for the paper
One leg to erase ya, kinda ironic
[Verse 4: BO]
Calling the shots like Chick Hearn in intern
Your chick hair fall in my crotch, follow me pop
Spit champagne, they should bottle me up
We on the edge like when my barber be lining me up
Never pledge allegiance, my mom must've done bred a demon
My pop must've done shot bullets instead a semen
I led a legion of doom cramped up in the womb
And started teething the day I heard a beat, let's eat

[Chorus]
Yeah, Top Dawg E-N-T
And it's 187 on a muthafuckin' beat
Yeah, Top Dawg E-N-T
And it's 187 on a muthafuckin' beat
Yeah, Top Dawg E-N-T
And it's 187 on a muthafuckin' beat

[Verse 5: Jay Rock]
Yeah, Jay Rock, Watts ambassador
Big truck, paint color Almond Joy
Black choppers seem like the commodores
Get money, fuck bitches, do it like a chore
That's the routine, 24 hours
More money, more power, fuck problems
Pop my collar, hit clubs and pop bottles
For the dollars I’m Master P, 'Bout It, 'Bout It
[Verse 6: BO]
Take a look at my wrist
Now look at my [?]
It feels like I have a fuckin’ toolbox on
You n***as ain’t hot, you n***as lukewarm
And I had swag ever since I was born
And every car I drive, yes it must be foreign
So when I ride by your bitch yelling popcorn
I get up under your skin, yes I’m a fuckin' thorn
And they have a stash spot and you just been warned, bitch

[Verse 7: Jay Rock]
Game said it first, I’m the next out the west
Want a test? Knock your spirit up out your flesh
Who’s the best rapper, I’m his favorite rapper
Too Fresh like a n***a still in the wrapper
I’m the shit like a n***a still in a pamper
Hit a booth, kill a track then we light candles
187 every time I spit a scripture
Jay Rock, Watt City, I’m the perfect picture

[Verse 8: Ab-Soul]
You ain’t gotta worry about who’s hotter
I been poppin’ collars
Been making it rain in the club, I been about my dollars
I see no colors, my n***a yes, I’m colorblind
So when you hit me up, all you gon' see is fuckin' dollar signs
Got my motivation, my n***a stay on the grind
Even if it's back on the block pushing nickels and dimes
Addicted to crime, I fuck with known felons
Top Dawg E-N-T, that's what they yelling, n***a (easy)