conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called R.O.T.C (Interlude) with the following description: “R.O.T.C (Interlude)” features Kendrick Lamar’s thoughts on life and the music industry on a typical morning in June—just eleven days before what would have been his 23rd birthday, June 17, 2010. Since the money is not coming as he had hoped, he ponders whether or not he should discontinue his music career and become a drug dealer instead.
  The title is a play on the U.S. Army’s Reserve Officers' Training Corps, a recruitment program typically for youth who want to pursue a military career; Kendrick reveals his own backronym during the outro:
  R.O.T.C.—Right On Time Conscience
  The chorus of the song is sung by B.J The Chicago Kid and interpolates Bobby Caldwell’s 1980 single, “Open Your Eyes,” perhaps most well-known as the sample that J Dilla used on Common’s “The Light,” released in July 2000. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Kendrick Lamar]
  This is me thinking at 4:43 AM, June 6th
  [Verse: Kendrick Lamar]
  Sometimes I wanna say fuck rapping, I need money now
  Like should I start trapping
  ?
  If what I write down don't collect this very moment
  Then I'm on it, no question
  In the streets, my niggas is well connected, let's see
  Do I cop a pound of kush, promethazine or push some E?
  Oxycontin have me laying on soft cotton when I sleep?
  This is deep as the abyss, I'm not just rhyming on the beat
  I be in spots, chopping the rocks like Flintstone feet
  This is me, frustrated, battling my own evils
  Finna saddle up that work across Ohio in a Geo
  Or should I sell my music .zip to buy your zip
  And hope one day it flourish to a kilo
  Track record of a hustler
  Rather records on the needle, making music
  Clocking fast bank like a shot from Patrick Ewing
  My nigga, what you doing on these corners whipping?
  "I thought you had a show?" Well, my nigga, I guess I didn't
  I'm tryna get this dough, and easy money sounds tempting
  Especially when your homies pushing V8 engines
  Twenty-two on twenty-sixes, Range Rovers rolling up
  Three-fifty for an ounce of fire, I hope I got enough
  This industry calling my bluff, I need a new solution
  Curb-serving, or I might be in your store boosting
  Two-elevens with Mac-11s like fuck hip-hop
  Don't wanna be Pun, don't wanna be B.I.G., don't wanna be Pac
  Just give me your funds, A.K.A. everything that you got
  Or everything getting shot, for nothing
  Leave you in shock, coughing up blood and mumbling
  Watch, the plans of a young man sponsor
  Moving grams like relocating your mom's momma
  Then expand to the Hoover Dam, water, sherm
  Contraband, they yearn for the butt-naked
  Fuck a verse, verses get let off in thirty minutes, six seconds
  I disperse to the world of unruly, where I put the mic down
  And pick up a sack and a toolie, if you knew me
  You'll know I always had a passion for riddling, writing
  But lately, I've been thinking 'bout taking chances to brighten
  My future financially, so please don't be mad at me
  I gotta do what I gotta do, no shit
  So I tell my nigga, "Front me, let me put it on the strip"
  Then give it back when I think about the consequence
  Shit... [Chorus: BJ the Chicago Kid]
  There are times, when you need someone
  I will be by your side
  Oh darling, cause there is a light that shines
  Special for you, and me yeah
  I-take-I-take-take my chances-chances-chances
  Before they pass, they pass, they pass
  Pass me by, oh darling
  You've got to look at the other side
  [Outro: Kendrick Lamar]
  R.O.T.C—Right On Time Conscience