Kendrick Lamar - You ain't gotta lie (Momma said)

Study long, study wrong, nigga.
Hey, y'all close that front door, ya'll let flies in this motherfucker.
Close that door!
My OG up in this motherfucker right now.
My pops man with the bottle in his hand, actin' a fool.
Hey, hey, babe check it out, Imma tell you what my mama had said, she like:


I could spot you a mile away.
I could see your insecurities written all on your face.
So predictable your words, I know what you gonna say.
Who you foolin'? Oh, you assuming you can just come and hang.
With the homies but your level of realness ain't the same.
Circus acts only attract those that entertain.
Small talk, we know that it's all talk.
We live in the Laugh Factory every time they mention your name.
Askin' "where the hoes at?" to impress me.
Askin' "where the moneybags?" to impress me.
Say you got the burner stashed to impress me.
It's all in your head, homie.
Askin' "where the plug at?" to impress me.
Askin' "where the juug at?" to impress me.
Askin' "where it's at?" only upsets me.
You sound like the feds, homie.


[Estribillo] (x2)
You ain't gotta lie to kick it, my nigga.
You ain't gotta lie, you ain't gotta lie.
You ain't gotta lie to kick it, my nigga.
You ain't gotta try so hard.

And the world don't respect you and the culture don't accept you.
But you think it's all love.
And the girls gon' neglect you once your parody is done.
Reputation can't protect you if you never had one.
Jealousy (complex), emotional (complex).
Self-pity (complex), under oath (complex).
The loudest one in the room, nigga, that's a complex.
Let me put it back in proper context.


[Estribillo] (x2)
You ain't gotta lie to kick it, my nigga.
You ain't gotta lie, you ain't gotta lie.
You ain't gotta lie to kick it, my nigga.
You ain't gotta try so hard.


Askin' "where the hoes at?" to impress me.
Askin' "where the moneybags?" to impress me.
Say you got the burner stashed to impress me.
It's all in your head, homie.
Askin' "where the plug at?" to impress me.
Askin' "where the juug at?" to impress me.
Askin' "where it's at?" only upsets me.
You sound like the feds, homie.
What do you got to offer?
Tell me before we off ya, put you deep in the coffin.
Been allergic to talkin', been a virgin to bullshit
and sell a dream in the auction, tell me just who your boss is.
Niggas be fugazi, bitches be fugazi.
This is for fugazi niggas and bitches who make habitual lyin' babies, bless them little hearts.
You can never persuade me.
You can never relate me to him, to her, or that to them
or you, the truth you love to bend.
In the back, in the bed, on the floor, that's your ho.
On the couch, in the mouth, I'll be out, really though.
So loud, rich niggas got low money
and loud, broke niggas got no money.
The irony behind it is so funny
and I seen it all this past year.
Pass on some advice we feel:


[Estribillo] (x2)
You ain't gotta lie to kick it, my nigga.
You ain't gotta lie, you ain't gotta lie.
You ain't gotta lie to kick it, my nigga.
You ain't gotta try so hard.