Target Practice

Lyrics

[Intro: Ab-Soul] Uh, wassup Show these niggas how the west was won [Verse 1: Ab-Soul] Yeah, if you don't know my name by now Just call me any rapper could get it Any month, any week, any day, any minute I'm knocking ballers off of their pivot in this scrimmage They painting pictures with no description Like a witness, who took an oath to no snitching Mind ya business, like the best entrepreneur or be diminished By the metaphor, in the following sentence I told you I does it a dozen times, you must of thought I was lyin' Yeah I'm nice, but I'm not too kind So dope I can say the same line two times So dope I can say the same line two times I don't care about your age, your creed or color The squares in your circle or the angles you covered If you in front of your girl, your cousin or mother I spread your ass out in the street like butter You got your toast, well I'm well equipped with a quote So a bullet leaving your chamber's like a word that I spoke Soul brother number dos, I'm a breathe in hundred's smoke Driven down central by a nigga in some Loc's Never going back to Cali cause the nigga never leave Even when I'm out the state, you see me, you see L.A And ain't nobody fucking with me, like a virgin with chlamydia Recognize, Top Dawg familia [Verse 2: Bad Lucc] Yeah, it's so amazing guru Jazzmatazz, the sound thinking of yoo-hoo Scrap, I'm going all in, it's the top dog With them Top Dawgs, nigga I'm not your Average, rhyme, put together, the architects Build raps, sell 'em his starter kits, the beast boy Fat boy get confused with monster Bury niggas like Contra, I'm your savior Don't call that man upstairs, cause if them stares Compare to me, look, you shook like Mobb and them Been say, dark as Sinkay Be hell to fate, I've been great, ya dig? How could he rap with such a force When I've been doing this since car hard jackers that figured four rock More problem, gangster, goblin Still in this tower with no robin, get that? Stacks in my jeans, yeah, they know the deal snoopy Lovin' big bitches, but they don't fit in my two seat Turnt the heater and bang, like my niggas from the hunters Shout out Bubble, what up Getta Sticking to my plans, rap for my fans Hootchie, lent that groupie a dick, get a Trans With no album, no show, got 'em golo Been about the turf since Merf was on the ocho Thugging like amone, word to the chrome Life's excite bike, I'm rushing to the throne Spitta, fat nigga jerking like he skinny New era Henny and a new pair of pennies I'm off my rocker, niggas do me nada Proud, but still in my pradas, ya bitch Bad Lucc, see me now, yeah that's what's up We the West, it's what's up, ya dig? [Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar] Uh, iming out the cannon of bazookas 100 ways to fuck you over, no Karma Sutra West coast till my death bed, cutting up Somebody fuck with Mr. Edward Scissorhands Been the man before you've been the man And I've been the man's equilibrium until it worrisome Aiming for his gut like Caesarians Throw me in aquariums, bet I'll grab a shark Snatch out his heart, freeze it, then preserve it in a jar I'm all these niggas bumping like stickers at the end of a car Aka K Dot commit a sin, press record I kill 'em every time, this ain't a free verse This a crime, grab a hearse, or duck the bomb Big ass W, and I throw it up like powder in the hands of Lebron, nigga what? Compton on my raider cap, oh wait, no wait But we want our spot back, bout to go nuts Somebody hand me a jockstrap, I ball everywhere Pure beast, a bear couldn't even bear Royal flush, like the feds rolling up And I fuck with Bad Lucc, but never broke a mirror Yeah, it's like that for you other coasts I'm right back in the '87 regal, and the people watch My wheels peel, like another Motrin I'm a headache for pete's sake, you cheapskates Can never out do me, or better yet do us Water's run deep, and you fucking around with scuba Divers with riders sticking their hand inside the cooler I live in a iceberg, you telling me you cooler? I'm living my dreams and I can't kill a Freddy Kruger Bout to run the game in some ran down Pumas And my name Mr. K Almighty, you try to low ball But she speaks only highly, try me, Q [Verse 4: ScHoolboy Q] Uh, let's see how many do it Put your hands up now, let's see how many truant Lying to the people, know you wrongful in your doings Good with this rap talk, I'm kinda speaking fluent Influenced by cocaine, gats and my dickies Life in the '50's, swisher sweet wrapped in a sticky Malt liquor stuffed up in a paper bag, it got me sparked up First nigga act up, he getting choked up Locced up, only seeing .45 from my jeans You see a nigga work from the spleen, you naw mean? I be the truth, if I'm not, boy you holding your tooth Blessed or not, I might bring hell in the booth Hallelujah Lord Jesus, wish Pac was here to see this All these niggas sucking penis, straight fags, take a dick Up in they ass for cash, why most in their chains for jags You heard about them L.A. niggas? Catch ya ass, slip and strip you out of your Pelham nigga While I'm doing it, screaming out "L.A. nigga!" Staple your mouth, something like the L.A. sinner T.D.E.N.T.-er, you don't even get this sinner Dumb muthafuckas will cause a ruckus, y'all suckas Boss nigga, ScHoolboy got a problem to solve Top Dawg, y'all under the paw The new shit like swine flu, covered in sauce, told ya all [Verse 5: Jay Rock] Holding up a W, nigga, you ain't loving us? We ain't loving you, fuck what you're going through Rock got a point to prove, this not your average 16 This a death blow, you running outta petro Don't have enough gas, to last with this metro Don't have enough cash to blast with this Rambo .45 tucked in my boxers, yeah we slang iron Fuck around and box ya, Y city shotta Welcome to the land of the choppers Nickerson gardens, you better watch us Ready for the drive-by, on the roof, snipe out ya driver Hunnid rounds straight to the car, leave no survivors That's how we get down, you don't wanna sit down Better take cover when you see us in your tizzown West Coast takeover, give the game a makeover The end is near, you fake rappers, your day's over Red fitted when I step in the place White T, black jeans, boo yah on my waist Yeah, it's the Rock, not Hova, get it right dawg Fuck a rap battle, fuck around and get your life lost Lay the clip off, bust until the hammer break Knock your head off, when I aim it at your face That's that gutter rap, show you where the gutter at When it's beef time, we'll bring it where your mother at