It Ain’t Hard 2 Tell

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Jay Rock] It ain't hard to tell that I live in hell Sin City watch city gotta get your mail How I sleep when I die that's real There's only two ways out: living under the dirt or life in the cell I'm still on the block tryna make me a sell You can't make too much, some niggas might tell That's how it is homie, when you up in your shit Get locked up, your friends might hook on your bitch Its fuck a ho, that's why I'm all about my chips To live and die broke, it's some embarrassing shit That's why I'm hooking a block, fuck hooking a bitch When the wars on, I'm bustin' em clips Shit I'm just trying to stack paper Blowing big weed, I'm high like a skyscraper L.A nigga in a New York state of mind When I rhyme verses like Cool J back in '85, I'm hot lava Gold d's on my low rider 4'5 so original like a ol' timer 2 pistols, one llama In the back of the trunk like who want drama? nobody Sitting back I got this, a project prophet I could predict when my goons ready to pop shit When the funds is low We're on the hunt for tons of blow Summer time, in Cali homie all we do is snow Counting dollars, til our hands get callused Won't stop hustling til the judge bang the gaval Prayin' for the better days Sit in the club celebrate Pop bottles, with top models back on the interstate Traffic and chickens homie we trying to get it Then we back in the kitchen whipping like a chemist Hunger pangs got me acting a fool in that dinner time Life is like a racing track trying to get to the finish line [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar] Slaughter pigs like farmer John My style got its own ambience You feel my presence? Live life like everyday class in session Learn something after 187 we burn some For real kid, our uncle doing a 13 year bid I pray to god he don't come out how he went in Gets ill, these streets got me packing a 9 mill My mind stay black, either kill or be killed It's real in the battlefield son Last week shortie do wop he at the ooh wop he said he ready to kill some I said "shortie chill, you ain't ready for that type of drama Plus karma for real" He shook his head, horizontal He said he was out on consignment some dudes on the block tried to rob 'em I said "try? What you mean?" He said they tried until I reached in to the pocket of my jeans I killed 2, but one got away which is bad news, because the hood didn't even cover my whole face And I know he be back, but before he do that I bring it to him first on the porch where he live at Damn shortie I can't knock you, its survival of the fittest With that said, do what you got to I shook his hand, then I walked away, then reality took a toll on me Shoulda never gave him that .38 Looking at the ceiling in my bedroom Then the phone rang, "hey K-Dot, turn on the news" They didn't even say his name But I knew it was him when it said another 7th grader was slayed It ain't hard to tell