R.I.P.

[Produced by Childish Gambino] [Intro: Ludwig Goransson] Oh, this is the idea where you're doing, like, one piece of artwork per track [Verse 1: Bun-B] Late ass nights come from long days Doin' all the right things in the wrong ways Doin' all the wrong shit for the right reasons Sprinklin' midnight game, call it night seasoning Haters get salty give 'em cholesterol Trill O.G, mop up the floor with the best of y'all Then dry that bitch off with the rest of y'all And catch a flight to Rio de Janero for la festival Yeah, and that's word to fit a baldy Ball hard like it's cement inside of my Spalding And I'll break your face with a no look pass Now back to your parking lot pimp with yo little hook ass I use harsh words cause these are hard times And trill-ass people, nowadays they're such a hard find So it's one eye open if I could peep ‘em And one on the scope, so if they frontin' I can sleep 'em Man, my flow is so parabolic The energy'll blow you over even if you're brolic Goddamn it, now that's one for the Googlers That fell sleep on they desk and never step their noodle up Takin' lames out never been new to us The hardest part of this shit is figurin' which of you to bust Then step your weight up like GNC And R.I.P. to Chris Luda reppin' CNC Straight G [Hook x2] There's somethin' inside you It's hard to explain They're talking about you boy But you're still the same [Verse 2: Childish Gambino] Rest in peace to them niggas who was dead wrong Toni Braxton to them niggas, that's a sad song Cry a river Timberlake, the whole industry Record the whole album in my living room in Italy Niggas who wasn't feelin' me secretly want a handout Keep your mouth shut, I can probably help your man out Drop a new stack all lames get to steppin' Drop a new track all blogs go to heaven Kill the web, man these niggas need they hits up Kiss her neck, add a dime to the tip cup She is not "slut," fuck a dude who says so Just because she's fuckin' doesn't mean she ain't a lady Kill the whole stage, I never needed a mic check Semen on my spacebar, fuckin' tired of Skype sex Runnin' with a new breed, me and Bun B This hip-hop nation, that big country Nigga please! We ain't stop for no one Wu-Tang Generator name, I'm a shōgun Wu-Tang Generator name, watch him smoke one Talk a lot of shit, but none of them will approach him Gambino got first position, the game is ballet So graceful; drive, he don't need a valet So angel: fly as I wanna be Mercy, somebody show these niggas can't hurt me Woah [Hook x2]