Misunderstood Songtext
von Kendrick Lamar feat. Jay Rock
Misunderstood Songtext
Baby you understand me now
If sometimes you see that I′m mad
Don't you know no one alive can always be an angel
When everything goes wrong, you see some bad
But I′m just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh lord please don't let me be misunderstood
As soon as the beat drop
Within two bars, you already said I'm hot.
They savor, my fruits of labor.
My flow is sweeter than strawberries, oranges, and apricots.
God-dammit I raised the standards of the status-quo.
To go against me you gotta be more than professional.
You got to go extra hard like an erection with no protection
And I be fucking all these bars
We be sexing I′m a nympho.
For the instrumentals, all right, I admit it,
Matter of fact I got a hot date tonight, real rap.
Take this and take that from the machine.
Got this money up, with no caffeine.
Prepare me is Kerosene struck by a bunch of lightening
You looking at me then your sight seeing
And what that means is that this human being is fly, don′t try to duplicate.
I'm authentic, I see you scoping my style like forensics, that is foul.
Tech! Leave ′em by the benches.
I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh lord please don′t let me be misunderstood
I see the future better than your computers.
Apple software got the next 10 years scared I'm Fred Krueger.
Rugers on my hip, terminate all intruders,
Leave them dead inside the sewers.
Shoulda′ coulda' knew I was a murderer
Burning up the very sun, the rapture.
The god is back, they said he'd come, but I came faster.
I′m not an actor, if you play Denzel, you′ll be thrown through a windshield.
The nine merely is handheld, the AK is hands on.
Now the battlefield I can land on one thousand mines and don't blow up because I′m the bomb
Inside your CD deck, duck for cover, guard your neck, I demand respect.
If I never see a check, at least I got these rap niggas in check.
Preach Tabernacle fetch the holy bible if I'm lying.
King of my jungle, swear to remain humble, keep my vision tunnel
Because I don′t need to get sidetracked, my producer name is Soundwave and he gives me beats by the batch.
I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh lord please don′t let me be misunderstood
My flow cold, like aspen.
I love to show off when I'm in that Aston
Look I had to ask, but I'm not jack
A east side nigga I can get you popped at
A hundred rounds nigga stop that
You can′t make that ass sit or flip-flop back
I′m too gutta nigga top that
This is lyrical homicide, not rap
So don't get it misunderstood
Say my name on your bars, shit I′m in your hood
With 45 goons 45 shugs
Chase your ass upstairs throw you of your roof
I see you big dogs, all I hear is woof
Loud talk, no bite, you niggas is puss
I'm off that bubble kush thinking about life
Or how to make a mill and spend it all in one night
I just might...
...Snatch your bitch if she got a great appetite
For the top dog catalog, that means everybody
Several bodies on the shoty don′t make it eight rappers
Damn I hate rappers, don't call me that
If you called it how you seen it you would call me real rap
I don′t fabricate shit, all I do is keep it real
Eat, sleep, and take shits wipe me down if you will
Hold up, big truck, lurkin' with the monster grill
Four fifteens I got beat like Emmett Till
Put me in my g-mode schooling every hot-head
Tell them about the g-code, like eskimos
My arms froze, popsicle
Observing the game, I'm so official
If sometimes you see that I′m mad
Don't you know no one alive can always be an angel
When everything goes wrong, you see some bad
But I′m just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh lord please don't let me be misunderstood
As soon as the beat drop
Within two bars, you already said I'm hot.
They savor, my fruits of labor.
My flow is sweeter than strawberries, oranges, and apricots.
God-dammit I raised the standards of the status-quo.
To go against me you gotta be more than professional.
You got to go extra hard like an erection with no protection
And I be fucking all these bars
We be sexing I′m a nympho.
For the instrumentals, all right, I admit it,
Matter of fact I got a hot date tonight, real rap.
Take this and take that from the machine.
Got this money up, with no caffeine.
Prepare me is Kerosene struck by a bunch of lightening
You looking at me then your sight seeing
And what that means is that this human being is fly, don′t try to duplicate.
I'm authentic, I see you scoping my style like forensics, that is foul.
Tech! Leave ′em by the benches.
I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh lord please don′t let me be misunderstood
I see the future better than your computers.
Apple software got the next 10 years scared I'm Fred Krueger.
Rugers on my hip, terminate all intruders,
Leave them dead inside the sewers.
Shoulda′ coulda' knew I was a murderer
Burning up the very sun, the rapture.
The god is back, they said he'd come, but I came faster.
I′m not an actor, if you play Denzel, you′ll be thrown through a windshield.
The nine merely is handheld, the AK is hands on.
Now the battlefield I can land on one thousand mines and don't blow up because I′m the bomb
Inside your CD deck, duck for cover, guard your neck, I demand respect.
If I never see a check, at least I got these rap niggas in check.
Preach Tabernacle fetch the holy bible if I'm lying.
King of my jungle, swear to remain humble, keep my vision tunnel
Because I don′t need to get sidetracked, my producer name is Soundwave and he gives me beats by the batch.
I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh lord please don′t let me be misunderstood
My flow cold, like aspen.
I love to show off when I'm in that Aston
Look I had to ask, but I'm not jack
A east side nigga I can get you popped at
A hundred rounds nigga stop that
You can′t make that ass sit or flip-flop back
I′m too gutta nigga top that
This is lyrical homicide, not rap
So don't get it misunderstood
Say my name on your bars, shit I′m in your hood
With 45 goons 45 shugs
Chase your ass upstairs throw you of your roof
I see you big dogs, all I hear is woof
Loud talk, no bite, you niggas is puss
I'm off that bubble kush thinking about life
Or how to make a mill and spend it all in one night
I just might...
...Snatch your bitch if she got a great appetite
For the top dog catalog, that means everybody
Several bodies on the shoty don′t make it eight rappers
Damn I hate rappers, don't call me that
If you called it how you seen it you would call me real rap
I don′t fabricate shit, all I do is keep it real
Eat, sleep, and take shits wipe me down if you will
Hold up, big truck, lurkin' with the monster grill
Four fifteens I got beat like Emmett Till
Put me in my g-mode schooling every hot-head
Tell them about the g-code, like eskimos
My arms froze, popsicle
Observing the game, I'm so official
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
