m.A.A.d city by Kendrick Lamar Lyrics Meaning – Decoding the Visceral Chronicle of Compton’s Harshest Realities
Lyrics
They’d probably gun me down by the end of this song
Seem like the whole city go against me
Every time I’m in the street I hear
“Yawk! Yawk! Yawk! Yawk!”
“Man down
Where you from, nigga?”
“Fuck who you know, where you from, my nigga?”
“Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?”
“This m.A.a.d city I run, my nigga”
Brace yourself, I’ll take you on a trip down memory lane
This is not a rap on how I’m slingin crack or move cocaine
This is cul-de-sac and plenty Cognac and major pain
Not the drill sergeant, but the stress that weighing on your brain
It was me, L Boog, and Yan Yan, YG Lucky ride down Rosecrans
It got ugly, waving your hand out the window, check yo self
Uh, Warriors and Conans
Hope euphoria can slow dance with society
The driver seat the first one to get killed
Seen a light-skinned nigga with his brains blown out
At the same burger stand where-, hang out
Now this is not a tape recording saying that he did it
But ever since that day, I was lookin’ at him different
That was back when I was nine
Joey packed the nine
Pakistan on every porch is fine
We adapt to crime, pack a van with four guns at a time
With the sliding door, fuck is up?
Fuck you shootin’ for if you ain’t walkin up you fuckin’ punk?
Pickin’ up the fuckin’ pump
Pickin’ off you suckers, suck a dick or die or sucker punch
A wall of bullets comin’ from
Ak’s, AR’s, “Aye y’all. Duck”
That’s what momma said when we was eatin’ that free lunch
Aw man, God damn, all hell broke loose
You killed my cousin back in ’94, fuck yo’ truce
Now crawl yo’ head in that noose
You wind up dead on the news
Ain’t no peace treaty, just piecin’
Bgs up to pre-approve, bodies on top of bodies
Iv’s on top of IV’s
Obviously the coroner between the sheets like the Isleys
When you hop on that trolley
Make sure your color’s correct
Make sure you’re corporate, or they’ll be calling your mother collect
They say the governor collect, all of our taxes except
When we in traffic and tragic happens, that shit ain’t no threat
You movin’ backwards if you suggest that you sleep with a TEC
Go buy a chopper and have a doctor on speed dial, I guess
M.a.a.d city
“Man down
Where you from, nigga?”
“Fuck who you know, where you from, my nigga?”
“Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?”
“This m.A.a.d city I run, my nigga”
If Pirus and Crips all got along
They’d probably gun me down by the end of this song
Seem like the whole city go against me
Every time I’m in the street I hear
“Yawk! Yawk! Yawk!
Wake yo’ punk ass up!
It ain’t nothin but a Compton thang
Chyea
Real simple and plain
“Let me teach you some lessons about the street
(Smoke somethin’, nigga)
Hood (‘sup, cuz? Wassup? nah, nah, nah, fuck that, nah)
Ain’t nothin but a Compton thang
Chyea (we got five on it)
How we do
Fresh outta school ’cause I was a high school grad
Sleeping in the living room of my momma’s pad
Reality struck I seen the white car crash
Hit the light pole two nigga’s hopped out on foot and dashed (watch out cuz)
My Pops said I needed a job I thought I believed him
Security guard for a month and ended up leaving
In fact I got fired ’cause I was inspired by all of my friends
To stage a robbery the third Saturday I clocked in
Projects tore up, gang signs get thrown up (wassup?)
Cocaine laced in marijuana
And they wonder why I rarely smoke now
Imagine if your first blunt had you foaming at the mouth
I was straight tweaking the next weekend we broke even
I made allegiance that made a promise to see you bleeding
You know the reasons but still won’t ever know my life
Kendrick AKA Compton’s human sacrifice (yeah)
Cocaine, weed
Nigga’s been mixing shit since the 80’s, loc
Sherm sticks, butt-nakeds, dip
Make a nigga flip
Cluck heads all up and down the block and shit
One time’s crooked and shit
Block a nigga in
Alondra, Rosecrans, Bullis, it’s Compton
I’m still in the hood
Loc yeah that’s cool (chyea)
The hood took me under so I follow the rules
But yeah that’s like me, I grew up in the hood where they bang
And niggas that rep colors is doing the same thing
Pass it to the left so I can smoke on me
A couple drive-bys in the hood lately (chyea)
Couple of IV’s with the fucking spray-can
Shots in the crowd then everybody ran
Crew I’m finna slay, the street life I crave
Shots hit the enemy, harsh turn brave
Mount up regulators in the whip
Down the boulevard with the pistol grip (chyea)
Trip, we in the hood still
So loc, grab a strap ’cause chyeah, it’s so real (chyea)
Deal with the outcome, a strap in the hand
And a bird and ten grand’s where motherfuckers stand
If I told you I killed a nigga at sixteen, would you believe me?
Or see me to be innocent Kendrick you seen in the street
With a basketball and some Now & Laters to eat
If I mentioned all of my skeletons, would you jump in the seat?
Would you say my intelligence now is great relief?
And it’s safe to say that our next generation maybe can sleep
With dreams of being a lawyer or doctor
Instead of boy with a chopper that hold the cul de sac hostage
Kill ’em all if they gossip, the Children of the Corn
They vandalizing the option of living a lie, drown their body with toxins
Constantly drinking and drive, hit the powder then watch this flame
That arrive in his eye, listen coward, the concept
is aim and then bang it and slide out that bitch with deposit
A price on his head, the tithes probably go to the projects, I
live inside the belly of the rough
Compton, U.S.A. made me an angel on angel dust, what? (Compton)
M.A.A.d city
Compton
Nigga, pass Dot the bottle, damn
You ain’t the one that got fucked up
What you holdin’ it for?
Niggas always actin’ unsensitive and shit
Nigga, that ain’t no word
Nigga, shut up
Hey, Dot, you good, my nigga?
Don’t even trip
Just lay back and drink that
Within the tapestry of modern hip-hop, few works pierce the veil of urban life with such penetrating truth as Kendrick Lamar’s ‘m.A.A.d city.’ The track, a cornerstone of Lamar’s critically acclaimed album ‘good kid, m.A.A.d city,’ is a stark, unflinching narrative that dives into the depths of growing up in the gang-infested streets of Compton, California.
Transforming personal history into a universal proclamation, Lamar doesn’t just rap lines; he exorcises demons of a community beset by systemic violence and societal indifference. His verses serve as a raw, poetic testimony that simultaneously laments and illuminates the circumstances shaping the youth ensnared in this unforgiving maelstrom.
Gangland’s Gravity: Kendrick’s Lament
Lamar’s vivid imagery immediately sets the stage for an immersive journey back to his adolescent years, marked by the cultural omnipresence of gangs. The introductory lines of ‘m.A.A.d city’ paint a hypothetical unity between Pirus and Crips, only to subvert it with the chilling revelation of the violence that would follow – an ever-present threat to Lamar merely for the act of storytelling.
This opening salvo establishes the gravity of his existence within these streets—it’s not a question of if, but when violence will erupt. It lays out the paradox of living in Compton; enemies permeate daily life to such an extent that any semblance of peace or progress feels ephemeral, if not outright fantastical.
The Heartbeat of Compton: ‘Yawk! Yawk! Yawk! Yawk!’
Few motifs in hip-hop have captured the collective consciousness like the aggressive chant that punctuates the track. These exclamations evoke gunfire, visceral reactions to danger, and the rallying cry of the disenfranchised—it’s an auditory representation of anxiety, fear, and defiance that echoes throughout Compton’s streets.
Not just an anthem, these shouts are the pulse of a city in distress, encapsulating the heightened sense of awareness necessary to navigate the perilous unpredictability of gang-dominated territories. To Kendrick and his peers, these sounds are a normalized component of city life, as familiar as any neighborhood soundtrack.
A Cinematic Walk Down Memory Lane
Kendrick doesn’t simply regale the listener with tales of violence and despair; he invites us to walk alongside him through ‘a trip down memory lane.’ The lyrics provide a candid camera rolling back to his nine-year-old self, witnessing the first of many brutal realities materialize through a bullet-shattered existence.
Through this introspective lens, we experience the normalcy of carrying firearms and the inevitability of loss and retribution, portrayed with a stark realism that only someone who lived it can impart. Kendrick is not glamorizing this life; he’s showcasing its undeniable and often heartbreaking normalcy.
The Song’s Hidden Lesson: Survival Amidst Chaos
‘m.A.A.d city’ resonates with a deeper message, conveying the desperate attempts to bide by the unwritten laws of survival. Lamar touches profoundly on the adaptability required to live another day—your awareness of surroundings, your loyalty to code, and the price of life in this environment.
He examines the corrupting influence of the streets on the youth, compelling them towards a dance with death, embodied in ‘the Children of the Corn.’ Amidst these personal revelations, Lamar is critical of the seductive allure of gang life and the cycle of violence that is almost inescapable.
Memorable Lines – A Voice for the Silenced
‘Where your grandma stay, huh, my nigga?’ More than a query, it’s a calculated threat in gang vernacular, a reminder that in this m.A.A.d city, no one is insulated from the reach of the streets—not even the sanctuary of a grandmother’s home.
And then there’s the soul-baring confession, ‘If I told you I killed a nigga at sixteen, would you believe me?’ Lamar forces us to confront the dichotomy of his past and present—the innocence associated with adolescence versus the disturbing normality of murder as a rite of passage in Compton.
