XXX [ lyrics ] - Kendrick Lamar ft. U2

DAMN. 𝙊𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝘼𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙤: 𝙇𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙨: America, God bless you if it’s good to you America please take my hand Can you help me underst- New Kung Fu Kenny Throw a steak off the yacht To a pool full of sharks, he’ll take it Leave him in the wilderness With a sworn nemesis, he’ll make it Take the gratitude from him I bet he’ll show you something, woah I’ll chip a nigga little bit of nothin’ I’ll chip a nigga little bit of nothin’ I’ll chip a nigga little bit of nothin’ I’ll chip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap Walk myself to the court like bitch I did that x-rated Johnny don’t wanna go to school no more, no more Johnny said books ain’t cool no more (no more) Johnny wanna be a rapper like his big cousin Johnny caught a body yesterday out hustlin’ God bless America you know we all love him Yesterday I got a call like from my dog like 101 Said they killed his only son because of insufficient funds He was sobbin’, he was mobbin’, way belligerent and drunk Talkin’ out his head philosphin’ on what the lord had done He said, “K-Dot can you pray for me? It’s been a fucked up day for me I know that you anointed, show me how to overcome“ He was lookin’ for some closure Hopin’ I could bring him closer To the spiritual, my spirit do no better, but I told him “I can’t sugar coat the answer for you This is how I feel—if somebody kill my son That mean somebody’s gettin’ killed“ Tell me what you do for love, loyalty, and passion of All the memories collected, moments you could never touch I wait in front a niggas spot and watch him hit his block I’ll catch a nigga leavin’ service if that’s all I got I’ll chip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap Walk myself to the court like, “Bitch I did that“ Ain’t no black power when your baby killed by a coward I can’t even keep the peace, don’t you fuck with one of ours It be murder in the street, it be bodies in the hour Ghetto bird on the street, paramedics on the dial Let somebody touch my momma Touch my sister, touch my woman Touch my daddy, touch my niece Touch my nephew, touch my brother You should chip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap Matter fact, I’m ’bout to speak at this convention Call you back Alright kids we’re gonna talk about gun control (Pray for me) Damn It’s not a place This country is to be a sound of drum and bass You close your eyes to look around Hail Mary, Jesus and Joseph The great American flag Is wrapped and dragged with explosives Compulsive disorder, sons and daughters Barricaded blocks and borders Look what you taught us It’s murder on my street, your street, back streets Wall street, corporate offices, banks Employees and bosses with homicidal thoughts Donald Trump’s in office, we lost Barack And promised to never doubt him again But is America honest or do we bask in sin? Pass the gin, I mix it with American blood Then bash him in, you crippin’ or you married to blood? I’ll ask again—oops—accident It’s nasty when you set us up Then roll the dice, then bet us up You overnight the big rifles, then tell Fox to be scared of us Gang members or terrorists, et cetera, et cetera Americas reflections of me That’s what a mirror does It’s not a place This country is to be a sound of drum and bass You close your eyes to look ar—