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Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar – ​range brothers Lyrics

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[Part I]

[Verse: Baby Keem]

Bad bitch, pardon me, I say, “What’s up?”

Educated, so I put her in the cut

I need a girlfriend, I need a girlfriend

Two hoes and I think I did too much

I got two phones and I don’t know who to trust

I need a girlfriend, I need a girlfriend

Bet that girlfriend lonely, introduce her to my humor

It’s a lot of bitches that they sent home in their Uber

Uh, high-profile niggas in my circle dodgin’ rumors

I been tucked away dodgin’ bless, duckin’ maneuvers

[Part II]

[Chorus: Baby Keem]

Huh? Okay, you say you not ready

Okay, okay, comin’ in heavy

Okay, they ain’t in shape, I’m petty, okay, okay

Okay, y’all be on E, un-leady

Okay, okay, hold the confetti

Okay, okay, you say you not ready

[Post-Chorus: Baby Keem]

They wanna bite the hand that try to feed them prudes

You cannot hidе behind the shades, I see right through it

You ain’t stand up on your word, thеn you’s a fool

They’re not, chea, they’re not, chea, they’re not bool

[Verse 1: Baby Keem]

I be wanna see me whole gang on TV, pg my Rollie

Turnin’ out tops and the tall bitches, that remind me of the old days

Sneakin’ in hoes with the backstage pass

What they all in, huh, for the poet? Huh?

I’m a young poetin’ nigga, I just go at it, nigga

I’m a whore at it, nigga

You could ask my mama, we poetic, nigga

I was raised in the projects, we could go at it, nigga

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I can’t waste no time on a co-edded, nigga

Bro-code, me an’ Dad count through seven figures

Raised around bottles and dope fiends

On a high since the day I turned sixteen

747, I’m starin’ at plane wings

Prayin’ the Lord’s seen, Grandma prayin’ for me (Ayy)

[Chorus: Baby Keem]

Huh? Okay, you say you not ready

Okay, okay, comin’ in heavy

Okay, they ain’t in shape, I’m petty, okay, okay

Okay, y’all be on E, un-leady

Okay, okay, hold the confetti

Okay, okay, just say you not ready

[Post-Chorus: Baby Keem]

They wanna bite the hand that try to feed them prudes

You cannot hide behind the shades, I see right through it

You ain’t stand up on your word, then you’s a fool

They’re not, chea, they’re not, chea, they’re not bool

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar & Baby Keem]

Everybody wanna be great but the work don’t relate him to life

Be mistakin’ the truth, nigga

I remember bankin’ with Chase, like four-hundred K

Starin’ at it, I don’t know what to do, nigga

Now I look at money like a resource

Every contract gotta put my kid’s family in school

Health and wealth, goin’ deep for it, do right for my next life

And he get some too

I remember roaches, momma lost focus

I was at home, no lights, no food

Heard that the joke is, “Hykeem broken”

Head to the ground when I walk in school

Goin’ through the motions, mad impulsive

Granny, I won’t abide by the rules

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I shall reside with advisers to boom

Fuck that, booman, let me get some too

Life ain’t always about your name in they mouth

And the cars and the clothes and the jewels (Jewels, oh)

Every lil’ bitch that’s born looking like soft porn

Only meant for your ego to bruise (Bruise, oh)

Bet when the hoes get bored and the points ain’t score

You gone live in this world confused (‘Fused, woo)

Every day the hate restored and the faith get short

Fuck that, let me get some too

Nigga, my livelihood was understood

That the roof I’m in not bool

Nigga, the shoes I fill are huge

Keem, wanna share that ho? Bro move

Nigga wanna fake sneak diss

‘Cause I fucked his bitch in a black hatchback

I front in the pics when the heart don’t match

Take care of the kids, gotta go where they at, ayy

[Part III]

[Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]

Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit

Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm

Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’

Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’

Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’

Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit

Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm (Like what these niggas on, like?)

[Verse: Baby Keem & Kendrick Lamar]

Ain’t shit changed, still fuckin’ and rappin’

Two bad bitches here, Cartier glasses, huh

Her friend got pornography habits (Give me that bitch, but, sir)

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Rollie gang, Rollie gang, Rollie gang (pgLang, fool)

Hundred thousand on her, she know she gang (She’s hot)

Rover gang, Rover gang, Rover gang (Rover gang)

Range brothers out the roof, we’re not the Wayans (We’re not the Wayans)

Bitch, I hate to tell the truth, we’re not the same (He’s Baby Keem)

I’m with my Rover brother and we’re runnin’ game (A Range Rover)

Whippin’ rubber bands on the meatloaf

Overseas, tidy up for me ‘fore I get home

Take one, take two, take three, heave it

Stop hidin’ comments under your sleeve, nigga, believe it

Why your boyfriend keep on lookin’ for me, is he Jesus?

[Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]

Let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit

Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm

Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’

Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’

Top of the mornin’, top of the mornin’

Hold on, let’s get this shit, let’s get this shit

Let’s get this shit, let’s, hmm


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