Illuminati Proper lyrics

[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar]
These streets is Jurassic, cowards get asthematic
Astronauts hover throughout the atmosphere
That's the ghetto bird. Pull up on the curve
"Wassup homie!", smoke a n*gga then dip
It's the immaculate, verbal assassin
Strangle your perfect etiquette to an accent
This the Jesus of Nazareth
Spittin' gold policies to a world unknown
In a cherry low low, with four zones of weed
No sticks, no seeds
Prestigious when I pulsate the 50 states
My need for speak can corral the largest crowds
Mosh pit, with a big di*k screamin' "b*tches ain't sh*t!"
She gobble gobble for hours, I jumped in the shower
I dismantle, devour hardest Emcees, softer than clam chowder
No challengers can compete, their childish and weak, detrimental
Hazardous hazard to instrumentals, intertwined with God and Frankenstein

[Hook]
I'm Corrupted
I'm Corrupted

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
Gimme a hundred g's, for every emcee I dropped to their knees
Verbally useless
"Oh you got the juice!?" I squeeze you juiceless
Catch you, hang you, from any nooses
Been the truth since "Snoop and Tha Pound" was f*ckin over Ruthless
Young and I'm ruthless
21 with 21 guns, shot and saluted for Pac
Lyrical cyclops, lasering in on paper and fraudulent friends
b*tch you's a b*tch in disguise, and b*tches get ten
Bullets to their midsection, Mr. Lethal Injection
In the regal higher than church steeples
I swear to God, can ya lyrics in a jar
I'm a pterodactyl tearin ya squad like pardon
Me and Terrace Martin enacting Martin
Cannibal coexisting with the coldest, that mean I'm the sickest
And Thera-flu won't do, whenever I'm kicking the wickedness
Explosive, cinematic, smoking
Like the barrel of this TEC aimin at ya neck
[Hook]
I'm Corrupted
I'm Corrupted

[Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar]
I'm from C-O-M-P-T-O any n*gga can get it
The lil homie strapped and he with it
At the Avalon's swap meet, "wassup fool!?"
Blunt longer than Rosecrans
I grab the devil then slow dance
Practice trigonometry
Practice my aim on rooftops eating pastrami sandwiches
You are counterfeit, worthless piece of verses surf this
West Coast with a big scope kill all yal
It's Top Dawg, TDE, CPT
Quick to tell a b*tch jump on my di*k A-S-A-P
Complete havoc composer, disorder: rhyme addict
Slaughter houses full of Joeys, Joells, and Royces for ya
Live from the area code of 310
Laughing all the way to the bank with 3 elmos
Three 64's, 1 bottle of goose
I'm the truth
You can put ya hand on the bible and shoot

[Hook]
I'm Corrupted