conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called What the Deal with the following description: Kendrick is rapping over the instrumental to Lloyd Banks “Work Magic” off of his “The Hunger For More” album. Track 2 off his debue mixtape: Youngest Head Nigga in Charge Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro]
  Uh-huh, yeah
  You know what it is
  Uh-uh
  It's that Compton shit, nigga
  Get back, uh
  I tell you, I swear it's-
  [Chorus]
  If I gotta ride (O-O-O-Okay, uh)
  Then he's gonna die (O-O-O-Okay, duck, niggas)
  [Interlude]
  Uh (Get back)
  Let me talk to 'em
  Listen
  [Verse]
  I hope niggas ain't really tryin' to break my bones
  'Cause if you are, make sure you know a nickname you want for that tombstone
  Play hard as a rock, bullets can break stones
  Break bad boys down like Jenny did Sean Combs
  I'm hot as an oven, you just a pressin' comb
  I'm not impressed homes, you should've stayed home
  And prayed that rooftop blocked you from gettin' shitted on
  I gives a fuck if A&R's don't pick up the phone, huh
  I swear there's no one like me
  But if it is, then I got a long lost twin, or they made me a clone
  I don't care about friends, I was made to be on my own
  I came in this world by myself, and I'm leavin' alone
  Hopefully with a crib that I can call my own
  With a backyard the size of the fuckin' Georgia Dome, pop
  You pop shit, then I might pop your dome
  Give your homies a reason to make a memory song, huh
  Niggas swear that they love when the beef is on
  Knowin' that plummet time the only time he'll roam
  You better hold your breath, I give you walkin' death
  And recommend the gun bein' your chaperone
  I know young niggas that look up to Al Capone
  And they look seventeen, but I swear that their mind is grown, shit
  I'm so grown and the reason why I write this way
  Pac and Big be ghostwritin' my songs, huh
  You can play the boss
  But if you get shot from bein' on top
  Then, homie, that's your loss, shit
  I'm nice wit' it
  I'll pop your man then leave some money on him so it can pay for his funeral costs, get it?
  The niggas tryin' to get money like Fort Knox
  Either from the rap shit or back down to the cut rock
  And you can play a baller but deep inside you know you just an actor
  Yeah, somethin' like Rick Fox, huh
  You ain't a thug, homie, you just a fox
  In the midst of werewolves somewhere in the Boondocks
  And I'm really from the streets
  So if I ask for beef, homeboy, don't bring me no pork chop
  I turn your skin to pork, homie, with one chop
  With a rusty switchblade that's dirty like bum socks, ha
  They say the flow is crack
  So wherever I rap, best believe you can call it a dope spot, bitch, bitch, I swear [Chorus]
  I'm gon' ride (Yeah, y'all know what it is)
  And he's gotta die (Uh, bitch)
  [Outro]
  It's that Compton shit, niggas (Get back)
  Uh, oh K.Dot (Huh, uh huh)
  Oh, oh, oh, oh K.Dot
  Money by any means, nigga