conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called It Ain’t Hard 2 Tell with the following description: Freestyle over Nas’s ‘It Ain’t Hard To Tell’. Produced by Large Professor.Expand Share Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Verse 1: Jay Rock]
  It ain't hard to tell that I live in hell
  Sin City watch city gotta get your mail
  How I sleep when I die that's real
  There's only two ways out: living under the dirt or life in the cell
  I'm still on the block tryna make me a sell
  You can't make too much, some niggas might tell
  That's how it is homie, when you up in your shit
  Get locked up, your friends might hook on your bitch
  Its fuck a ho, that's why I'm all about my chips
  To live and die broke, it's some embarrassing shit
  That's why I'm hooking a block, fuck hooking a bitch
  When the wars on, I'm bustin' em clips
  Shit I'm just trying to stack paper
  Blowing big weed, I'm high like a skyscraper
  L.A nigga in a New York state of mind
  When I rhyme verses like Cool J back in '85, I'm hot lava
  Gold d's on my low rider 4'5 so original like a ol' timer
  2 pistols, one llama
  In the back of the trunk like who want drama? nobody
  Sitting back I got this, a project prophet
  I could predict when my goons ready to pop shit
  When the funds is low
  We're on the hunt for tons of blow
  Summer time, in Cali homie all we do is snow
  Counting dollars, til our hands get callused
  Won't stop hustling til the judge bang the gaval
  Prayin' for the better days
  Sit in the club celebrate
  Pop bottles, with top models back on the interstate
  Traffic and chickens homie we trying to get it
  Then we back in the kitchen whipping like a chemist
  Hunger pangs got me acting a fool in that dinner time
  Life is like a racing track trying to get to the finish line [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
  Slaughter pigs like farmer John
  My style got its own ambience
  You feel my presence? live life like everyday class in session
  Learn something after 187 we burn some
  For real kid, our uncle doing a 13 year bid
  I pray to god he don't come out how he went in
  Gets ill, these streets got me packing a 9 mill
  My mind stay black, either kill or be killed
  It's real in the battlefield son
  Last week shawty do wop he at the ooh wop he said he ready to kill some
  I said shawty chill, you ain't ready for that type of drama
  Plus karma for real
  He shook his head, horizontal
  He said he was out on consignment some dudes on the block tried to rob em
  Try? what you mean?
  He said they tried until I reached in to the pocket of my jeans
  I killed 2, but one got away which is bad news, because the hood didn't even cover my whole face
  And I know he be back, but before he do that
  I bring it to him first on the porch where he live at
  Damn shawty I can't knock you, its survival of the fittest
  With that said, do what you got to
  I shook his hand, then I walked away, then reality took a toll on me
  Shoulda never gave him that .38
  Looking at the ceiling in my bedroom
  Then the phone rang, hey K Dot turn on the news
  They didn't even say his name
  But I knew it was him when it said another 7th grader was slayed
  It ain't hard to tell