[Part I]

[Verse: Baby Keem]
Bad bitch, pardon me, I say, “What’s up?”
Educated, so I put her in the cut
I need a girlfriend, I need a girlfriend
Two hoes and I think I did too much
I got two phones and I don’t know who to trust
I need a girlfriend, I need a girlfriend
Bet that girlfriend lonely, introduce her to my humor
It’s a lot of bitches that they sent home in their Uber
Uh, high-profile niggas in my circle dodgin’ rumors
I been tucked away dodgin’ bless, duckin’ maneuvers

[Part II]

[Chorus: Baby Keem]
Huh? Okay, you say you not ready
Okay, okay, comin’ in heavy
Okay, they ain’t in shape, I’m petty, okay, okay
Okay, y’all be on E, un-leady
Okay, okay, hold the confetti
Okay, okay, you say you not ready

[Post-Chorus: Baby Keem]
They wanna bite the hand that try to feed them prudes
You cannot hidе behind the shades, I see right through it
You ain’t stand up on your word, thеn you’s a fool
They’re not, chea, they’re not, chea, they’re not bool

[Verse 1: Baby Keem]
I be wanna see me whole gang on TV, pg my Rollie
Turnin’ out tops and the tall bitches, that remind me of the old days
Sneakin’ in hoes with the backstage pass
What they all in, huh, for the poet? Huh?
I’m a young poetin’ nigga, I just go at it, nigga
I’m a whore at it, nigga
You could ask my mama, we poetic, nigga
I was raised in the projects, we could go at it, nigga
I can’t waste no time on a co-edded, nigga
Bro-code, me an’ Dad count through seven figures
Raised around bottles and dope fiends
On a high since the day I turned sixteen
747, I’m starin’ at plane wings
Prayin’ the Lord’s seen, Grandma prayin’ for me (Ayy)

[Chorus: Baby Keem]
Huh? Okay, you say you not ready
Okay, okay, comin’ in heavy
Okay, they ain’t in shape, I’m petty, okay, okay
Okay, y’all be on E, un-leady
Okay, okay, hold the confetti
Okay, okay, just say you not ready

[Post-Chorus: Baby Keem]
They wanna bite the hand that try to feed them prudes
You cannot hide behind the shades, I see right through it
You ain’t stand up on your word, then you’s a fool
They’re not, chea, they’re not, chea, they’re not bool

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar & Baby Keem]
Everybody wanna be great but the work don’t relate him to life
Be mistakin’ the truth, nigga
I remember bankin’ with Chase, like four-hundred K
Starin’ at it, I don’t know what to do, nigga
Now I look at money like a resource
Every contract gotta put my kid’s family in school
Health and wealth, goin’ deep for it, do right for my next life
And he get some too
I remember roaches, momma lost focus
I was at home, no lights, no food
Heard that the joke is, “Hykeem broken”
Head to the ground when I walk in school
Goin’ through the motions, mad impulsive
Granny, I won’t abide by the rules
I shall reside with advisers to boom
Fuck that, booman, let me get some too
Life ain’t always about your name in they mouth
And the cars and the clothes and the jewels (Jewels, oh)
Every lil’ bitch that’s born looking like soft porn
Only meant for your ego to bruise (Bruise, oh)
Bet when the hoes get bored and the points ain’t score
You gone live in this world confused (‘Fused, woo)
Every day the hate restored and the faith get short
Fuck that, let me get some too
Nigga, my livelihood was understood
That the roof I’m in not bool
Nigga, the shoes I fill are huge
Keem, wanna share that ho? Bro move
Nigga wanna fake sneak diss
‘Cause I fucked his bitch in a black hatchback
I front in the pics when the heart don’t match
Take care of the kids, gotta go where they at, ayy

[Part III]

[Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]
Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit
Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm
Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’
Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’
Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’
Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit
Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm (Like what these niggas on, like?)

[Verse: Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar]
Ain’t shit changed, still fuckin’ and rappin’
Two bad bitches here, Cartier glasses, huh
Her friend got pornography habits (Give me that bitch, but, sir)
Rollie gang, Rollie gang, Rollie gang (pgLang, fool)
Hundred thousand on her, she know she gang (She’s hot)
Rover gang, Rover gang, Rover gang (Rover gang)
Range brothers out the roof, we’re not the Wayans (We’re not the Wayans)
Bitch, I hate to tell the truth, we’re not the same (He’s Baby Keem)
I’m with my Rover brother and we’re runnin’ game (A Range Rover)
Whippin’ rubber bands on the meatloaf
Overseas, tidy up for me ‘fore I get home
Take one, take two, take three, heave it
Stop hidin’ comments under your sleeve, nigga, believe it
Why your boyfriend keep on lookin’ for me, is he Jesus?

[Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]
Let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit
Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm
Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’
Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’
Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’
Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit
Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm