[Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]
Smoke good, eat good, live good
Smoke good, eat good, live good
Smoke good, eat good, live good
Smoke good, eat good, live good
[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar]
I used to want to see the penitentiary way after elementary
Thought it was cool to look the judge in the face when he sentenced me
Since my uncles was institutionalized
My intuition had said I was suited for family ties
My mama is stressin', my daddy tired
I need me a weapon, these niggas ride
Every minute, hour, and second, ministers tried to save me
How I'm gon' listen when I don't even hear God?
Heaven or hell, base it all on my instincts
My hands dirty, you worried 'bout mud in your sink
You like to mistake a street nigga for real nigga
The same nigga that kill with you'll squeal with you
I deal with you like my son, stare at the sun
And you'll be looking in my eyes, homie
Stand for something or fall for anything
And you working with two left feet at the skating rink
But anyway, this for my niggas
Uncles, twenty-three hours, sendin' me pictures
I want you to know that I'm so determined to blow
That you hear the music I wrote, hope it get you off death row
You came home to a pocket full of stones
A Metro PC phone, then you went back in
So when I touch the pen, the pen is in my view
I'ma get it right, just so you
Smoke good, eat good, live good
Smoke good, eat good, live good
Smoke good, eat good, live good
Smoke good, eat good, live good
[Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar]
I used to want to see the penitentiary way after elementary
Thought it was cool to look the judge in the face when he sentenced me
Since my uncles was institutionalized
My intuition had said I was suited for family ties
My mama is stressin', my daddy tired
I need me a weapon, these niggas ride
Every minute, hour, and second, ministers tried to save me
How I'm gon' listen when I don't even hear God?
Heaven or hell, base it all on my instincts
My hands dirty, you worried 'bout mud in your sink
You like to mistake a street nigga for real nigga
The same nigga that kill with you'll squeal with you
I deal with you like my son, stare at the sun
And you'll be looking in my eyes, homie
Stand for something or fall for anything
And you working with two left feet at the skating rink
But anyway, this for my niggas
Uncles, twenty-three hours, sendin' me pictures
I want you to know that I'm so determined to blow
That you hear the music I wrote, hope it get you off death row
You came home to a pocket full of stones
A Metro PC phone, then you went back in
So when I touch the pen, the pen is in my view
I'ma get it right, just so you
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