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Kendrick Lamar
Ronald Reagan Era (His Evil) Lyrics

”’Ash Riser:”’
We’re far from good, not good from far
Ninety miles per hour down Compton Boulevard
With the top down, screaming, “We don’t give a fuck”
Drink my forty ounce of freedom while I roll a blunt
‘Cause the kids just ain’t alright

”’Ab-Soul:”’
Oh, shit nigga
Somethin’ ’bout to happen
Nigga, this shit, nigga this sound like thirty ki’s under the Compton court building
Hope the dogs don’t smell it

”’Kendrick Lamar:”’
Welcome to vigilante, eighties so don’t you ask me
I’m hungry, my body’s antsy, I rip through your fuckin’ pantry
Peelin’ off like a Xanny, examine my orchestra
Granny said when I’m old enough, I’ll be sure to be all I can be
You niggas Marcus Camby, washed up
Pussy, fix your panties, I’m Mr. Marcus, you getting fucked, uh
You ain’t heard nothin’ harder since Daddy Kane
Take it in vain, Vicodins couldn’t ease the pain
Lightnin’ bolts hit your body, you thought it rained
Not a cloud in sight, just the shit that I write
Strong enough to stand in front of a travellin’ freight train, are you trained?
To go against Dracula draggin’ the record industry by my fangs
AK clips, money clips, and gold chains
You walk around with a P90 like it’s the nineties
Bullet to your temple, your homicide’ll remind me

That Compton Crip niggas ain’t nothin’ to fuck with
Bompton Pirus ain’t nothin’ to fuck with
Compton éses ain’t nothin’ to fuck with
But they fuck with me, and bitch I love it

”’Kendrick Lamar and RZA:”’
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop, whoop de whoop
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop (California Dungeons)
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop, whoop de whoop
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop (California Dungeons)

”’Kendrick Lamar and Ab-Soul:”’
Let’s hit the county buildin’, gotta cash my check
Spend it all on a forty ounce to the neck
And in retrospect I remember December being the hottest
Squad cars, neighborhood wars and stolen Mazdas
I tell you motherfuckers that life is full of hydraulics
Up and down, get a ’64, better know how to drive it
I’m drivin’ on E with no license or registration
Heart racin’, racin’ past Johnny because he’s racist
1987, the children of Ronald Reagan raked the leaves off
Your front porch with a machine blowtorch (I’m really out here, my nigga)
He blowin’ on stress, hopin’ to ease the stress (Like, really out here)
He copping some blow, hopin’ that it can stretch
Newborn massacre, hopping out the passenger
With calendars, ’cause your date’s comin’
Run him down and then he gun him down, I’m hopin’ that you fast enough
Even the legs of Michael Johnson don’t mean nothin’

”’Kendrick Lamar:”’
Because Compton Crip niggas ain’t nothin’ to fuck with
Bompton Pirus ain’t nothin’ to fuck with
Compton éses ain’t nothin’ to fuck with
But they fuck with me, and bitch I love it

”’Kendrick Lamar and RZA:”’
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop, whoop de whoop
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop (California Dungeons)
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop, whoop de whoop
Whoop de whoop, whoop de whoop-whoop (California Dungeons)

”’Kendrick Lamar and Ab-Soul:”’
Can’t detour when you’re at war
With your city, why run for it?
Just ride with me, just die with me
That gun store, right there
When you fight, don’t fight fair ’cause you’ll never win
(Right, I had the yapper, and I tore they ass up)

Can’t detour when you’re at war
With your city, why run for it?
Just ride with me, just die with me
That gun store, right there
When you fight, don’t fight fair ’cause you’ll never win, yeah

”’Ab-Soul:”’
We really out here, my nigga, you niggas don’t understand, my nigga
I’m off of pill and Remy Red, my nigga, trippin’, my nigga

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