Ya’ll remember back in 2012 when Kendrick Lamar dropped good kid, m.A.A.d city? It wasn’t just an album—it was a cinematic journey. And when that first verse of “m.A.A.d City” hit? It shook the entire game. Kendrick laid it all out: the harsh realities of his Compton upbringing, the violence, the trauma, the survival. The storytelling was on another level.
This verse is iconic. From the moment Kendrick said, “Brace yourself, I’ll take you on a trip down memory lane,” you knew you were in for something deep. He paints a vivid picture of his childhood, the chaos, the danger. It wasn’t just about the street life; it was about the emotional weight it carried. This verse had it all—the rawness, the pain, the lyricism.
And let’s talk about the flow. Kendrick’s delivery on this track is undeniable. He shifts between storytelling and rapid-fire bars with ease, creating a rhythm that’s impossible to ignore.
Check out Kendrick’s first verse below:
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 weighin’ on your brain
It was me, L Boog, and Yan Yan, YG Lucky ride down Rosecrans
It got ugly, wavin’ yo’ hand out the window — check yourself
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 recorder sayin’ 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, “Ayy, y’all—duck”
That’s what mama said when we was eatin’ that free lunch
Aw man, goddamn, all hell broke loose
You killed my cousin back in ’94, fuck yo’ truce
Now crawl your 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, IVs on top of IVs
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 callin’ 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
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