Lyrics were too long to fit in the description 💙: [Verse 1] Dear Adonis I'm sorry that that man is your father, let me be honest It takes a man to be a man, your dad is not responsive I look at him and wish your grandpa woulda wore a condom I'm sorry that you gotta grow up and then stand behind him Life is hard, I know, the challenge is always gon' beat us home Sometimes our parents make mistakes that affect us until we grown Hey, you're a good kid that need good leadership Let me be your mentor since your daddy don't teach you shit Never let a man piss on your leg, son Either you die right there or pop that man in the head, son Never fall in the escort business, that's bad religion Please remember, you could be a bitch even if you got bitches Never code-switch, whether right or wrong, you're a Black man Even if it don't benefit your goals, do some push-ups, get some discipline Don't cut them corners like your daddy did, fuck what Ozempic did Don't pay to play with them Brazilians, get a gym membership Understand, no throwin' rocks and hidin' hands, that's law Don't be ashamed 'bout who you wit', that's how he treat your moms Don't have a kid to hide a kid to hide again, be sure Five percent will comprehend, but ninety-five is lost Be proud of who you are, your strength come from within Lotta superstars that's real, but your daddy ain't one of them And you nothing like him, you'll carry yourself as king Can't understand me right now? Just play this when you eighteen [Verse 2] Dear Sandra Your son got some habits, I hope you don't undermine them Especially with all the girls that's hurt inside this climate You a woman, so you know how it feels to be in alignment With emotion, hopin' a man can see you and not be blinded Dear Dennis, you gave birth to a master manipulator Even usin' you to prove who he is is a huge favor I think you should ask for more paper, and more paper And more, uh, more paper I'm blamin' you for all his gamblin' addictions Psychopath intuition, the man that like to play victim You raised a horrible fuckin' person, the nerve of you, Dennis Sandra, sit down, what I'm about to say is heavy, now listen Mm-mm, your son's a sick man with sick thoughts, I think niggas like him should die Him and Weinstein should get fucked up in a cell for the rest their life He hates Black women, hypersexualizes 'em with kinks of a nympho fetish Grew facial hair because he understood bein' a beard just fit him better He got sex offenders on ho-VO that he keep on a monthly allowance A child should never be compromised and he keepin' his child around them And we gotta raise our daughters knowin' there's predators like him lurkin' Fuck a rap battle, he should die so all of these women can live with a purpose I been in this industry twelve years, I'ma tell y'all one lil' secret It's some weird shit goin' on and some of these artists be here to police it They be streamlinin' victims all inside of they home and callin' 'em tender Then leak videos of themselves to further push their agendas To any woman that be playin' his music, know that you're playin' your sister Or better, you're sellin' your niece to the weirdos, not the good ones Katt Williams said, "Get you the truth," so I'ma get mines The Embassy 'bout to get raided too, it's only a matter of time Ayy, LeBron, keep the family away, hey, Curry, keep the family away To anybody that embody the love for their kids, keep the family away They lookin' at you too if you standin' by him, keep the family away I'm lookin' to shoot through any pervert that lives, keep the family safe [Verse 3] Dear baby girl I'm sorry that your father not active inside your world He don't commit to much but his music, yeah, that's for sure He a narcissist, misogynist, livin' inside his songs Try destroyin' families rather than takin' care of his own Should be teachin' you time tables or watchin' Frozen with you Or at your eleventh birthday singin' poems with you Instead, he be in Turks payin' for sex and poppin' Percs, examples that you don't deserve I wanna tell you that you're loved, you're brave, you're kind You got a gift to change the world, and could change your father's mind 'Cause our children is the future, but he lives inside confusion Money's always been illusion, but that's the life he's used to His father prolly didn't claim him neither History do repeats itself, sometimes it don't need a reason But I would like to say it's not your fault that he's hidin' another child Give him grace, this the reason I made Mr. Morale So our babies like you can cope later Give you some confidence to go through somethin', it's hope later I never wanna hear you chase a man 'cause it's feral behavior Sittin' in the club with sugar daddies for validation You need to know that love is eternity and trumps all pain I'll tell you who your father is, just play this song when it rains Yes, he's a hitmaker, songwriter, superstar, right And a fuckin' deadbeat that should never say "More Life" Meet the Grahams [Verse 4] Dear Aubrey I know you probably thinkin' I wanted to crash your party But truthfully, I don't have a hatin' bone in my body This supposed to be a good exhibition within the game But you fucked up the moment you called out my family's name Why you had to stoop so low to discredit some decent people? Guess integrity is lost when the metaphors doesn't reach you And I like to understand 'cause your house was never a home Thirty-seven, but you showin' up as a seven-year-old You got gamblin' problems, drinkin' problems, pill-poppin' and spendin' problems Bad with money, whorehouse Solicitin' women problems, therapy's a lovely start But I suggest some ayahuasca, strip the ego from the bottom I try to empathize with you 'cause I know that you ain't been through nothin' Crave entitlement, but wanna be liked so bad that it's puzzlin' No dominance, let's recap moments when you didn't fit in No secret handshakes with your friend No culture cachet to binge, just disrespectin' your mother Identity's on the fence, don't know which family will love ya The skin that you livin' in is compromised in personas Can't channel your masculine even when standin' next to a woman You a body shamer, you gon' hide them baby mamas, ain't ya? You embarrassed of 'em, that's not right, that ain't how mama raised us Take that mask off, I wanna see what's under them achievements Why believe you? You never gave us nothin' to believe in 'Cause you lied about religious views, you lied about your surgery You lied about your accent and your past tense, all is perjury You lied about your ghostwriters, you lied about your crew members They all pussy, you lied on 'em, I know they all got you in 'em You lied about your son, you lied about your daughter, huh You lied about them other kids that's out there hopin' that you come You lied about the only artist that can offer you some help Fuck a rap battle, this a long life battle with yourself
One of the best Kendrick songs in awhile. He actually has lyricism and feeling, unlike drake who just wants to slant rhyme and “flex”. If drake fed him info it should show how sneaky and creepy he is. But if not well, I think kung fu Kenny says it all best. And writes truthfully to all he addresses here.
