conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called West Coast Wu-Tang with the following description: “West Coast Wu-Tang” serves as the sixth track to Kendrick Lamar’s third solo mixtape, C4. The song features fellow Black Hippy member, Ab-Soul, and includes a guest verse from Terrence “Punch” Henderson, who is the president of Top Dawg Entertainment.
  K-Dot pays homage to the Staten Island collective Wu-Tang Clan by sampling Wendy Rene’s August 1964 track, “After Laughter (Comes Tears).” RZA of the Wu-Tang Clan used the same sample on 1994’s “Tearz” off of their debut album, Enter the Wu-Tang.
  In a November 2011 interview with the radio station 90.5FM KSJS, Lamar spoke on Wu-Tang’s influence in his music and career:
  Just that raw element of hip-hop, you know. To do what I want to do, and to have my own voice. That was a group of individuals that had each individual sound. Nobody sounded like each other, and everybody went for self and did what they wanted to do. And that’s hip-hop. Being yourself and expressing yourself. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Verse 1: Kendrick Lamar]
  Whoo Ha!
  Backpack raps with gats in it
  Don't get your cap peeled by the black menace
  K-Dot thoroughbred
  Move like a militant soldier, on point like a pyramid
  A forced to be reckoned with, fuck with the best shit
  Like the strongest manure, I'm ready when you are
  This is it, I'm in the lab cooking up all day
  Fuck 'em up all day like a nympho
  I been dope since S curl waves
  Trying to convince hoes I got good hair
  Knowing damn well there's chemicals there
  I'm in the hood with the 17 year-olds that's on hood patrol
  And they want stripes, so they shoot off bikes
  And you know any moment you can lose your life
  So kiss your kids and hug your wife, and what not yo
  I spar with a dragon, he tried to throw a flame
  But I ducked, then I stabbed him and came out the battle laughin'
  That's a metaphor for any rapper who wants it
  I smack 'em til their nose is running
  You know the hoes is coming if I'm there
  And the hoes is cumming once we hit the hotel
  There's no assumptions
  Cool out before I move out, hop on the 105
  Do about 105 before your ass gets threw out the back seat
  (There's a dead guy on the freeway)
  Oh, It's not Dot? Tell the medics it's okay
  A beast when the beat break
  You probably think I'm dope like this the realest shit I wrote
  But to me, it's a throw-away
  I stare at the four walls and rap like I'm mad at God
  Nice enough to throw a spear at Nas
  Launch at Jay, matter fact, let me take that back
  See I don't fuck with real legends in rap like you do
  I'm crucial, concealed by real crips and suwoo
  And they shoot like photography students when beef gets to brewing [Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]
  Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
  Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
  Tell me how you feel, son, tell me how you feel, son
  Tell me how you feel, son, tell me how you feel
  You rappers got nothing for me when Sound-Sounwave record me
  Every MC, I'm sure to rip them, I guarantee you will forgive them
  [Verse 2: Ab-Soul]
  Come again, no introduction, you know my name
  Soul brother, Dueces suck the juice from my ding-a-ling
  Orangutan arms banging niggas like a set
  When I speak, they fucking silent like sex for the deaf
  Violence, I play it like violins in the orchestra
  Treat you like vitamins then spit you back out
  Like a verse I had way back before I had it mapped out
  Rip a page out the Almanac then cross reference when I wreck shit
  I wish jaw bone fractures on all of you rappers bumping your gums
  Like the measles when the record meets the needle
  Heads spinning like a twelve-inch, 
  Smoking the best Celtic
  Like I shot Larry Bird, follow my word
  Big Herb
  , Ill with it, I need a hospital gown
  You need 54 cards, deal with it
  You may think I'm killing it, but I'm healing it
  Like a bitch in the club, Shoe game, touché [Verse 3: Punch]
  Ay yo yo, the flow potent
  Who's more focused? Kick doors open
  Deliver the golden opus leave with two guns smoking
  It's me, the podium closing, a poet well-spoken
  The gropes is most consistent with imminent penmanship
  Mind-bending, co-existing with the written
  Verbal assassin, Internally smashing, Spazzing on tracks
  Translation, I'm disgusting in action
  A lyrical glutton busting over Sounwave productions
  Y'all don't want nothing, The sum of all fears
  Mercury rising, I'm summer all year
  I sixteen 'em to death and wish them the best
  I guess that's the gift and a curse, You see my pattering
  Y'all still rapping like that's what's happening
  I write rhymes with fire on stone tablets
  Peep the malice, I'm a monster
  Ya Boy running like William Joseph Crawford
  [Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]
  Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
  Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
  Tell me how you feel, son, tell me how you feel, son
  Tell me how you feel, son, tell me how you feel
  You rappers got nothing for me when Sound-Sounwave record me
  Every MC, I'm sure to rip them, I guarantee you will forgive them [Verse 4: Kendrick Lamar]
  Straight up, Don't get ate up
  Put rappers in quicksand, Dot leaned on 'em like kickstands
  I'm so hot, kids put me in their iPod
  Even atheists play my shit and say, "My God, Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, he's nice"
  Don't compare me to them, just compare me to Mike Jordan
  When I record and the verse and the chorus is ill
  You can land in lab of fortune when biting my skills, playa'
  Watch I lay-up bar after bar like I'm trying to build a gate up
  See me on the way up like an elevator, I'mma let you take the stairs
  That metaphor meaning I'm already there (Greatness)
  I'm in the booth with an apron
  Cooking up shit like Martha Stewart was my bitch, Amen
  Stay on the curb like a spray day tan?
  Blowing herb with my nigga Herb, Fuck what you niggas heard
  We the new West Coast Wu Tang bitch and I'm the best
  Think less, You can suck my dick
  Who from the West can kill it like us? Give me their name
  Now I take 'em to the house of pain, Top Dawg headquarters
  [Chorus: Kendrick Lamar]
  Is it real, son? Is it really real, son?
  Is it really real, son? Is it really real?
  Tell me how you feel, son, tell me how you feel, son
  Tell me how you feel, son, tell me how you feel
  You rappers got nothing for me when Sound-Sounwave record me
  Every MC, I'm sure to rip them, I guarantee you will forgive them