These were by far the most-read words of the week. It's not surprising, considering it was heavily hyped and every artist on the track other than YG is huge. Most of the verses are solid, but there's nothing really groundbreaking here. Kendrick's verse stands out as he's on an arrogant tip, but fundamentally this is just another club banger.
The lyrics are also noteworthy because Chris Brown takes a thinly veiled, homophobic shot at Drake in the final verse: "And if you started from the bottom go on and come out the closet." This was a bit awkward, given that Drake and Kendrick have collaborated.
But Breezy went on to explain the remark during an interview on Sway In The Morning: "You can't take me serious, I’m not a rapper. 'Cause, I know aint nothin' gonna happen, so I say whatever I want. Rebuttals is gonna be stupid, I’m not a rapper. So you’re gonna be stupid rappin' back to a singer, but I’mma keep comin', nigga, I don’t care."
Is that really how it works?
[Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar]
All up in bitch shit and I'm beamin' and shit
Hundred hoes, hundredfold, this my season and shit
Stomach on belly, roll, bitch I'm eatin' and shit
You a vegan and shit, get off my penis and shit
Look a bad bitch, I back that bitch nigga back, back
Pull it out the grab bag, turn this hoe to Baghdad
Bags on my eyes, I don't sleep much, we up
Bitch I beat the beat up, the homies get you beat up
And R.I.P to Peanut, little Eric, get back
Mausberg, 4 Bent, Compton, I live that
Long hair weave with extensions
Glock 17 with extension
Bumpin' Suga Free in the automatic dually
TVs in it like it's '97, watch a porno movie
Holla "chitty chitty, bang," this is Com-Town gang
Fuck whoever don't like it, lil' K-Dot be the name
[Hook x2: Young Jeezy]
R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P., R.I.P.
R.I.P. we just killed the club
Took patron to the head, almost killed a thug
[Verse 4: Chris Brown]
R.I.P. to the V.I.P.
I got my lil' niggas in the club, fuck I.D.
My niggas kill at will, give you black-eyed peas
And the molly make the white girl look Chinese
Always Bre, my niggas out here ballin'
And all these fake-ass artists, y'all niggas out here drawin'
Okay now, dearly departed - I bought a plane, I departed
And if you started from the bottom go on and come out the closet
You problematic, I bought them rachets and automatics
Clip hold 32, I make you feel the Magic
You gon' see the flashes, like you in a pageant
All black suits, and them long Caddys
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