Ronald Reagan Era (His Evils)

(专辑： Section.80 - 2011)

[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 my blunt
'Cause the kids just ain't alright

[Ab-Soul:]
Oh shit, nigga
Something 'bout to happen
Nigga, this shit, nigga, this sound like thirty keys under the Compton court building
Hope the dogs don't smell it

[Kendrick Lamar:]
Welcome to vigilante, '80s, so don't you ask me
I'm hungry, my body's antsy, I rip through your fucking pantry
Peeling 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 nothing harder since Daddy Kane
Take it in vain, Vicodins couldn't ease the pain
Lightning 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 traveling freight train, are you trained?
To go against Dracula, dragging the record industry by my fangs
AK clips, money clips, and gold chains
You walk around with a P90 like it's the '90s
Bullet to your temple, your homicide'll remind me

[Kendrick Lamar (RZA):]
That Compton Crip niggas ain't nothing to fuck with
Bompton Pirus ain't nothing to fuck with
Compton éses ain't nothing to fuck with
But they fuck with me, and bitch, I love it
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop, woop-di-woop
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop (California Dungeons)
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop, woop-di-woop
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop (California Dungeons)

[Kendrick Lamar:]
Let's hit the county building, 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 six-four, better know how to drive it
I'm driving on E with no license or registration
Heart racing, racing past Johnny because he's racist
1987, the children of Ronald Reagan
Rake the leaves off your front porch with a machine blowtorch (I'm really out here, my nigga)
He blowing on stress, hoping to ease the stress (Like, really out here)
He copping some blow, hoping that it can stretch
Newborn massacre
Hopping out the passenger with calendars 'cause your day coming
Run him down and then he gun him down, I'm hoping that you fast enough
Even the legs of Michael Johnson don't mean nothing, because

[Kendrick Lamar (RZA):]
Compton Crip niggas ain't nothing to fuck with
Bompton Pirus ain't nothing to fuck with
Compton éses ain't nothing to fuck with
But they fuck with me, and bitch, I love it
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop, woop-di-woop
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop (California Dungeons)
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop, woop-di-woop
Woop-di-woop, woop-di-woop-woop (California Dungeons)

[Kendrick Lamar (Ab-Soul):]
Can't detour when you 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 yopper, and I tore they ass up)
Can't detour when you 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, yeah, yeah

[Kendrick Lamar:]
Whoa, whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa

[Ab-Soul:]
We really out here, my nigga
You niggas don't understand, my nigga
I'm off a pill and Rémy Red, my nigga
Tripping, my nigga