Hol’ Up

Kendrick Lamar

Album Section.80

Verse 1

I wrote this record while thirty-thousand feet in the air
Stewardess complimenting me on my nappy hair
If I can fuck her in front of all of these passengers
They’ll probably think I’m a terrorist, eat my asparagus
Then I’m asking her thoughts of a young nigga
Fast money and freedom, a crash dummy for dollars
I know you dying to meet him, I’ll probably die in a minute
Just bury me with twenty bitches, twenty million
And a Comptown fitted

Chorus 1

Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Yeah, big shit popping — Section.80

Verse 2

Back in this bitch, in the back of that bitch
With my back against the wall
And your bitch on the edge of my dick—jump off!
I call a bitch a bitch, a hoe a hoe, a woman a woman
I never did nothing but break the ground on top of the asphalt
Tire mark gave you evidence that I’m easily peddling
With the speed of a lightning bolt
As a kid I killed two adults, I’m too advanced
I lived my twenties at two years old, the wiser man
Truth be told, I’m like eighty-seven
Wicked as 80 reverends in a pool of fire with devils holding hands
From a distance don’t know which one is a Christian, damn
Who can I trust in 2012?
There’s no one, not even myself
A Gemini screaming for help, somebody

Chorus 2

Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Yeah, big shit poppin’, everybody watchin’
When you do it like this, nigga, losing ain’t a option
Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Yeah, big shit poppin’ —
Hey, hey, kick her out the studio, Ali

Verse 3

24/7, nigga working his ass for it, she popping that ass for
The King of Diamonds with diamonds, I never do ask for it
They checking my passport, I’m too accustomed with customs
She callin’ the task force, I killed it, somebody cuff him
They want me to fast-forward the game, and why you complain
When you niggas is past poor? You’ll never hop in my lane
When you pushing a RAV4, you wrecking my Jaguar
You play like a bad sport, her feet on the dashboard

Chorus 3

Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Yeah, big shit poppin’, everybody watchin’
When you do it like this, nigga, losing ain’t an option
Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Hol’ up (Hol’ up), hol’ up (Hol’ up)
Yeah, big shit poppin’, everybody watchin’
When you do it like this, nigga

Outro

I wrote this record while thirty-thousand feet in the air
Stewardess complimenting me on my nappy hair
If I can fuck her in front of all of these passengers
They’ll probably think I’m Osama
The plane emergency landed, it was an honor
Hol’ up

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