On the record, he discusses issues such as American politics in the second verse and the rap industry in the third verse, with the latter being based on his observations of the stir caused in response to his “Control” verse. Kendrick’s delivery on this track is at a higher pitch than normal to signify his younger self, his past, and his roots. This is him transporting himself to a time when the hood was all he knew. This is a progression and also a contrast from the last song, “Momma.” The last song was about how he forgot how it was to be in the hood. “Hood Politics” is just this – Kendrick giving us the outlook, again, of when he was a child/adolescent and didn’t have the knowledge he has now. Kendrick states in his poem that he dealt with survivor’s guilt by reiterating to himself that he earned his success and stayed true to his A-1 foundation.
The tube sock killer full#
Dot, what up? I heard they opened up Pandora’s box” I box ‘em all in, by a landslide Nah, homie, we too sensitive, it spill out to the streets I make the call and get the Coast involved, then history repeats But I resolved inside that private hall while sitting down with Jay He said, "It's funny how one verse could fuck up the game" I been A-1 since day one, you niggas boo-boo I remember you was conflicted Misusing your influence Sometimes I did the same Abusing my power full of resentment Resentment that turned into a deep depression Found myself screaming in a hotel room I didn't want to self-destruct The evils of Lucy was all around me So I went running for answers Until I came home But that didn't stop survivors guilt Going back and forth Trying to convince myself the stripes I earned Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was But while my loved ones was fighting a continuous war Back in the city I was entering a new one Everybody want to talk about who this and who that Who the realest and who wack, or who white or who black Critics want to mention that they miss when hip-hop was rappin' Motherfucker, if you did, then Killer Mike'd be platinum Y’all priorities fucked up, put energy in wrong shit Hennessy and Crown Vic, my memory been gone since Don’t ask about no camera blocking at award shows No, don’t ask about my bitch, no, don’t ask about my Vogues 'Less you askin' me about power, yeah, I got a lot of it I'm the only nigga next to Snoop that can push the button Had the Coast on standby “K.
Hopped out the Caddy, just got my dick sucked The little homies called and said, "The enemies done cliqued up" Oh, yeah? Puto want to squabble with mi barrio? Oh, yeah? Tell 'em they can run it for the cardio Oh, yeah? Everything is everything, it's scandalous Slow motion for the ambulance, the project filled with cameras The LAPD gamblin', scramblin', football numbers slanderin' Niggas' names on paper-you snitched all summer Streets don’t fail me now They tell me it's a new gang in town From Compton to Congress Set-trippin’ all around Ain't nothin' new but a flu of new Demo-Crips and Re-Blood-icans Red state versus a blue state-which one you governin'? They give us guns and drugs, call us thugs Make it they promise to fuck with you No condom, they fuck with you, Obama say, "What it do?" Obama say, "What it do?" Obama say, "What it do?" Obama say, "What it do?" I been A-1 since day one, you niggas boo-boo Your homeboy, your block that you're from, boo-boo Lil hoes you went to school with, boo-boo Baby mama and your new bitch, boo-boo We was in the hood, fourteen with the deuce-deuce Fourteen years later, going hard like we used to, on the dead homies On the dead homies I don't give a fuck about no politics in rap, my nigga Our lil' homie Stunna Deuce ain't never comin' back, my nigga So you better go hard every time you jump on wax, my nigga Fuck what they talkin' 'bout, your shit is where it's at, my nigga Came in this game, you stuck your fangs in this game You wore no chain in this game, your hood, your name in this game Now you double up, time to bubble up the bread and huddle up Stickin' to the scripts, now, here, if them Benjamins go cuddle up Skip, hop, drip, drop Flip, flop with the white tube sock It goes, "Sherm sticks, burn this" That's what the product smell like when the chemicals mix 50-nigga salute, out the Compton zoo, with the extras El Co's, Monte Carlos, Road Kings, and dressers Rip Ridaz, P-Funkers, Mexicans, they fuck with you Asians, they fuck with you, nobody can fuck with you I been A-1 since day one, you niggas boo-boo Your homeboy, your block that you're from, boo-boo Lil hoes you went to school with, boo-boo Baby mama and your new bitch, boo-boo We was in the hood, fourteen with the deuce-deuce Fourteen years later, going hard like we used to, on the dead homies On the dead homies
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