Textbook Stuff

[Hook] There, there, baby It's just textbook stuff It's in the ABC, of growin' up There, there, baby It'S just textbook stuff It's in the ABC, of growin' up [Verse 1: XV] Three women raised me Famous Footwear paid me not enough to blow up But showed up cause I ain't fuckin' lazy And teachers thought I was dumb or crazy Or both With hopes of being a Nas or Jay-Z I slumped, in my chair and my grades My head wasn't raised Being fly was priority to the lowest I would stand on my desk just to see the world in a different way The dead society of a poet Homie I'm focused But there's something that a dude can't prove I mean fam, I was damn near invisible at school So I banged for a minute Cause all my niggas was crippin' Just me and my two of my dudes, blue man crew Had dreams of doing things they say that you can't do Cause everything ain't black and white, 'less you chew bamboo So I was after big bills like a toucan do All the while my mom askin' why I'm truant at school She said [Hook] There, there, baby It's just textbook stuff It's in the ABC, of growin' up There, there, baby It's just textbook stuff It's in the ABC, of growin' up [Verse 2: XV] Uhh, So why ain't I go to college My mommas ultimatum made me say that I know I got it My niggas said V's buggin' Stay on your computer software, debugging But we holding hardware cause we thuggin' Now they in the trap-house with some guns that they done borrowed And all this snow, I call it Infant Sorrow With plans to reach the end even if I had to start slow Sold CDs in the mall, making dough like Sbarro Then I left the hood, like fuck it don't need the cargo They banking I don't do well, and I don't mean Fargo But even when you leave, somehow it still try to follow Baby brother took a charge harder than LeBron and Rondo Trying to keep his head up while his eyes are in the Bible Cause they say a mind that's idle is a devil's toy aisle My nephew looking at me cause his daddy is his idol I looked at him, told him sit down This information is vital, look [Hook] [Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar] Living my life like I'm living right In the midst of a fire pit The gang-banging and violence, is the sweetest song And I roam with the heart of a violin Don't violate my patience I'm waiting, to kill a man As I stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets If I gotta eat, I steel like a metal piece I'm screamin' out fuck the police I'm dealing my cards with Jokers on em You can disown him or stone him I'm throwing them rocks back, with the fury of bullets You couldn't live your life for the moment When I'm foamin' at the mouth And my sharpest of teeth showin' I'm in the back of a black Buick Finna black out, like February Ain't that how Black's do it, right I cut off my ears before I hear your advice and vice versa I'm screaming for help, as loud as I can but that's not working I'm working them corners like blueprints Then caught an L on my first offence The judge threw the book at me And said this [Hook]