Kendrick Lamar - H.O.C lyrics

H.O.C., H.O.C. All the real smokers give me H.O.C. All the real smokers give me H.O.C. H.O.C., H.O.C. All the real smokers give me H.O.C. H.O.C. Everybody know I spit that hunk of sh** sh** that make you duck for cover sh** sh** that make you hop out your seat and slap your mother sh** Especially when Drop drop the beat I drop j**els like my nuts dropped out of my briefs Jump in the booth, then shatter every rapper's dream They jump in a sauna because I k**ed their self-esteem That's a jab, you should bob and weave like Pam when Martin pulled jokes out his sleeve I go in studio sessions and feel like a nerd cause I'm the only n***a there not smoking no herb You telling me the kush make you think on level four? I'm on five, you saying I can level more? In high school, my teachers thought I was smoking stress Didn't know my eyes low cause of genetic defects I stimulate my mind every time I think about the end of time creation of man and Columbine [Chorus] Bet you think that this some high sh** that I wrote Probably think I'm off the kush or the hydro I don't even smoke, I don't even smoke I don't even smoke, I don't even smoke I really appreciate that you share your endo But a sip of Henny is the farthest I would go I don't even smoke, I don't even smoke I don't even smoke, I don't even smoke Look, nowadays everybody think they big chiefers just cause they heard that new tape from Wiz Khalifa Knowing damn well they can't hit the sour They new booties, they probably need baby powder My sk** shower over your city for forty days forty nights, off the chain like freedom of slaves Before you get it twisted like forty gays My flow worth the earth, that's not to be appraised Those the type of lines that I'm talking bout You know, the type of rhymes you don't talk about Copy my session on a disc when the session ends so my mama can have it and play it for her friends Brag on me like my son's bout to win Somehow, someday, and I don't care when I might hit the gin once a month I'll let you inhale/in hell, like an atheist [Chorus] Uhh, I'll take you back to the ninth grade when Dough Boy had me high for four days That's my n***a, he a street n***a Probably in your hood f**ing up your street n***a But anyway, I think it was some purple Told me don't hit it hard because it'll hurt you I didn't listen, I was floating like the Rose Parade Swear to God a n***a seen some flying fishes That was the Vegas trip Hooters sponsored The same time I start writing like a f**ing monster I'm Frankenstein every time this motherf**er ponders Just underline every letter Capital K-D-O-T, letting it flat out like a tire with slow leaks, and what you bout? Nothing huh? Am I square cause I don't puff a square? Are my raps too blunt to hit the blunt? Yeah [Chorus] [Kendrick Lamar (screwed)] H.O.C., H.O.C. All the real smokers give me H.O.C. All the real smokers give me H.O.C. (b**h I'm blowed!) H.O.C., H.O.C. (b**h I'm blowed!) All the real smokers give me H.O.C. All the real smokers give me H.O.C.