Ronald Reagan Era Lyrics - Kendrick Lamar

We're far from good 

Not good from far 

90 miles per hour down Compton Boulevard 

With the top down, screaming we dont give a f-ck 

Drink my 40 ounce of freedom while I roll my blunt 

Cause the kids just aint alright 

Oh shit nigga 

Somethin' 'bout to happen 

Nigga this shit, nigga this sound like 30 keys under the compton court building 

Hope the dogs don't smell it 

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Welcome to vigilante 

80′s so don't you ask me 

I'm hungry my body's antsy 

I'll rip through your fucking pantry 

Peeling off like a? 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 ya panties 

I'm Mr. Marcus, you gettin' fucked, ugh 

You aint heard nothing harder since Daddy Kane 

Take it vain, vicodins couldn't ease the pain 

Lightening bolts hit ya body, you thought it rained 

Not a cloud in sight, just the shit that I write strong enough 

To stand in front of a travelling 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 90′s 

Bullet to your temple your homocidell remind me 

Photos 

Them Compton crip niggas aint nothing to fuck with 

Bompton Pirus aint nothing to fuck with 

Compton esés aint nothin' to fuck with 

But they fuck with me and bitch I love it 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woop 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woopty woop woop 

(California dungeons) 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woop 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woopty woop woop 

(California dungeons) 

Lets hit the county building gotta catch my check 

Spend it all to a 40 ounce to the neck 

And in retrospect I remember December being the hottest 

Squad cars, neighbourhood wars and stolen monsters 

I tell you mothafuckers that life is full of hydraulics 

Up and down, get 64 better know how to drive it 

I'm driving on E with no license or registration 

Heart racin' racing past johnny because he's racist 

1987, the children of Ronald Reagan raped the leaves off your front porch 

With a machine blow torch 

He blowing on stress, hoping to ease the stress 

He copping some blow hoping that it can stretch 

New born massacre, hoppin' out the passenger 

With calendars cause your date coming 

Run 'em down them he gun em down 

I'm hoping that you fast enough 

Even the legs of Michael Johnson don't mean nothin' because 

Them Compton crip niggas aint nothing to fuck with 

Bompton Pirus aint nothing to fuck with 

Compton esés aint nothin' to fuck with 

But they fuck with me and bitch I love it 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woop 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woopty woop woop 

(California dungeons) 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woop 

Whoopty whoop, woopty woop woopty woop woop 

(California dungeons) 

Can't detour when you at war with your city 

Why run for? 

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 

Can't detour when you at war with your city 

Why run for? 

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 

Woah woah wo-wo-wo-woah 

Woah woah wo-wo-wo-woah