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DAMN. COLLECTORS EDITION.

DUCKWORTH.

Kendrick Lamar DUCKWORTH. - DAMN. COLLECTORS EDITION.
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It was always me vs the worldUntil I found it's me vs meWhy, why, why, why?Why, why, why, why?Just rememberWhat happens on Earth stays on Earth!We gon' put it in reverseDarling, I told you many timesAnd I am telling you once againJust to remind you, sweetheartThat myOh Lamar, Hail Mary and marijuana, times is hardPray with the hooligans, shadows all in the darkFellowship with demons and relatives, I'm a starLife is one funny mothafuckaA true comedian, you gotta love himYou gotta trust himI might be buggin', infomercials and no sleepIntroverted by my thoughtsChildren, listen, it gets deepSee, once upon a time inside the Nickerson Garden projectsThe object was to process and digest poverty's dialectAdaptation inevitable: gun violence, crack spotFederal policies raid buildings and drug professionalsAnthony was the oldest of sevenWell-respected, calm and collectedLaughin' and jokin' made life easierHard times, Momma on crackA four-year-old tellin' his nanny he needed herHis family history: pimpin' and bangin'He was meant to be dangerousClocked him a grip and start slangin'Fifteen, scrapin' up his jeans with quarter piecesEven got some head from a smoker last weekendDodged a policeman, workin' for his big homieSmall-time hustler, graduated to a brick on him10,000 dollars out of a project housing, that's on the dailySeen his first mil twenty years old, had a couple of babiesHad a couple of shootersCaught a murder caseFingerprints on the gun they assumin'But witnesses couldn't prove itThat was back when he turned his back And they killed his cousinHe beat the case and went back to hustlin'Bird-shufflin', Anthony rangThe first in the projects with the two-tone MustangThat 5.0 thing, they say 5-0 cameCirclin' parking lots and parking spotsAnd hoppin' out while harrassin' the corner blocksCrooked cops told Anthony he should kick itHe brushed 'em off and walked back To the Kentucky Fried ChickenSee, at this chicken spotThere was a light-skinned nigga that talked a lotWith a curly top and a gap in his teethHe worked the window, his name was DuckyHe came from the streets, the Robert Taylor HomesSouthside Projects, Chiraq, the Terror DomeDrove to California with a woman on him and 500 dollarsThey had a son, hopin' that he'd see collegeHustlin' on the side with a nine-to-five to freak itCadillac Seville, he'd ride his son around on weekendsThree-piece special with his name on the shirt pocket'Cross the street from the projects, Anthony planned to rob itStuck up the place before, back in '84That's when affiliation was really eight gears of warSo many relatives tellin' us, sellin' us devilish worksKillin' us, crime, intelligent, feloniousPrevalent proposition with 9'sDucky was well-awareThey robbed the manager and shot a customer last yearHe figured he'd get on these niggas' good sidesFree chicken every time Anthony posted in lineTwo extra biscuitsAnthony liked him and then let him slideThey didn't kill him; in factIt look like they're the last to survivePay attention, that one decision changed Both of they livesOne curse at a timeReverse the manifest and good karmaAnd I'll tell you whyYou take two strangers And put 'em in random predicamentsGive 'em a soul so they can make their own choices And live with itTwenty years later, them same strangersYou make 'em meet againInside recording studios Where they reapin' their benefitsThen you start remindin' them About that chicken incidentWhoever thought the greatest rapper would be From coincidence?Because if Anthony killed DuckyTop Dawg could be servin' lifeWhile I grew up without a father and die in a gunfight So, I was takin' a walk the other day