Video Whose House de Kendrick Lamar 2024 Cristiana Lyrics

Kendrick Lamar - Whose House Lyrics

[Intro]
(DJ RPM)
(Dirty Money Niggas)

[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]
Uh, whose house is this?
Money out the ying-yang, can't count that shit
Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that shit
When they said a nigga wouldn't amount to shit
Now whose house is this?
Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and shit
Run your dick-sucker, keep me out that bitch
'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that bitch (RPM)

[Verse 1: Slim The Mobster]
Broadcastin' live from South Central Los Angeles
Where the babies born scandalous
The street, I keep my hand in it
The gun, I keep my hand on it
Niggas is gon' need bandages if I brandish it
Ambulances, the chance that you make it, slim, nigga
I'm good in the hood 'cause I motivated them niggas
I graduated from dumb hoes and malt liquor
To expensive wine and dime bitches
Redlinin' the DB9 like it's my time, pimpin'
Audemars with the sickest shine, quality time spendin'
And you niggas is borderline bitches, that's my opinion
And my niggas is ride or die, Aftermath my religion
Talk loud, but I don't listen, act out and come up missin'
That click-clack-pow did it, like Colin Powell did it
And I'm so West Coast, OK Corral with it
My new foreign car, can't pronounce that shit
You fuck around, I'll Rick James a nigga couch and shit
[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]
Uh, whose house is this?
Money out the ying-yang, can't count that shit
Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that shit
When they said a nigga wouldn't amount to shit
Now whose house is this?
Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and shit
Run your dick-sucker, keep me out that bitch
'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that bitch (Give me my damn money, Dirty Money Niggas)

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
Broadcasting live from Compton, California, where foreigners never come
Mothers are worrisome and we dislike the governor
Hope these angels can cover us
If the LAPD ain't do it, it was a cover-up
Coroners 'bout to cover up everybody
I'm serious
Every shotty is sawed off and every nigga is militant
At your gut like Caesareans, what?
EBT cards, no credit, can't lease cars
All my life, been on GR, now my life on the billboards soon
Give me room, I react like a wildebeest and throw salt inside of your wound
You just diabetes to me, ain't shit sweet but these hotels, homie
That Crip shit got my uncles life in jail, homie
So if I push the same line, they'll never forgive me
Or worse than that, them niggas right around the corner might kill me
I'm fightin' back when it's hard, what?
No barber, my guards up
The author of fallen fathers that did it without much
This my house, nigga
[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]
Uh, whose house is this?
Money out the ying-yang, can't count that shit
Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that shit
When they said a nigga wouldn't amount to shit
Now whose house is this?
Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and shit
Run your dick-sucker, keep me out that bitch
'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that bitch