conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called 1Train with the following description: Featuring a slew of upcoming popular MCs over a beat crafted by Hit-Boy—the producer behind “Niggas in Paris”—"1Train" was the most anticipated track for many prior to the release of LONG.LIVE.A$AP. Hit-Boy also produced Rocky’s first single from the album, “Goldie,” and the featured artist Kendrick Lamar can be heard on another of the album’s songs.
  In an interview with Peter Rosenberg and Hot 97, Rocky explains why he chose these features, who had his favorite verse, and the significance of the track’s title.
  The song hit the internet on the 18th of December 2012, the same day the entire album leaked and nearly a month prior to the actual release date. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Produced by Hit-Boy]
  [Verse 1: A$AP Rocky]
  Uh, feelin' like a vigilante or a missionary
  Tell my A$AP killers, get they pistols ready
  Send 'em to the cemetery with obituaries
  Don't be scared, nigga, is you ready?
  I've been thinkin' 'bout all the O's in my bank account (What?)
  X the hoes in my bed is 'round the same amount (What?)
  Ever since this new star fame came about
  Or ever since me and Drizzy started hangin' out, huh
  Young boy, let his gun bang, let his nuts hang
  Transition to a Lamborghini from a Mustang
  Drugs slang in the drug game with the hustling
  (I know one thing) Anything is better than that 1 Train
  Bag made of Goyard, 
  cheffin' like I'm Boyar—
  Dee,
   probably sellin' D in your local courtyard
  Braids like I'm O-Dog, 
  my la familia go hard
  Down to my inlaws, they outlaws with no laws
  [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
  We outlawed, then I bogart,
   
  any pros that got 'proached at
  With a toe-tag, get broke off in the projects 
  with a skateboard
  I roll past and I blaze y'all 
  like, "Doo, doo," I hate y'all
  When the beef cooked, I ate y'all like, "Mmm, mmm!"
  Let's play ball in a ballpark with all sharks and a blindfold
  I rhyme cold, my K hot, your 9 cold,
   that bark like K9s on
  That banana clip, straight from the rip
  I'll make that shirt say R.I.P.,
   I'm on some shit
  If I'm not the hottest then Hell must have froze over
  You thought it was safe then forgot what the code was
  I carry traits of a traumatized soldier
  Don't look in my face, I might snap, I might choke ya
  Spine right out of place, give me dap like you 'posed to
  Darts at your posters, dark nights like this
  I metamorph like I'm 'posed to, 
  I might slice my wrist
  Or pretend like a vulture and drop off this cliff [Verse 3: Joey Bada$$]
  Barely even conscious, 
  talkin' to my conscience
  Gettin' deeper in these flows like conches
  I'm on my convict, don't drop bars, I drop prisons
  Don't sell rocks, seen the spectrum through the prisms
  Somehow bypassed the bias and the -isms
  The violence and the killin', so given
  They seen my pigment and thought that was the ign'ance
  Unfortunately, I am not that type of niglet
  But pass the pot, let me skillet
  Just got back to the block from a 6 o'clock with Jigga
  And I'm thinkin' 'bout signin' to the Roc
  But my niggas on the block still assigned to the rocks
  And I swear it hurt me soul
  I try to prevail but when I preach I only hurt their sales
  Like you're only gon' end up either dead or in jail
  But you my nigga, wish you the best for real
  [Verse 4: Yelawolf]
  When you mention my name amongst other white rappers
  Or for that matter any fuckin' rapper, fuck it
  Painter, skater, musician, trailer park, dirt-ditch-diggin'
  Burger-flippin', eat, sleep, shittin' human bein', you would be in
  Trouble to body-double or couple me to these others
  'Cause comparatively speakin', my reach is beyond the bubble
  That they put me in, 
  my vision's beyond the Hubble's
  I huddle with Nubians,
   new beginnin' again
  You in school at 10, late, 
  Radioactive
  's goin' gold
  And so? Great! Do I give a flying duck
  If I'm applyin' love to my rhymin' plus alignin' us?
  Alabama's climbin' up—wait! No, I don't give a
  Flying duck nothin' but a buckshot; ch-pow!
  Motherfuck your life, pussy blood-clot
  Ain't never been no rapper this cold since 2Pac was froze
  And thawed out for a spot date at a Coachella show—Yelawolf [Verse 5: Danny Brown]
  Weed a different color like a hoodrat bra and panties
  And my flow be overhead like pots and pans in pantries
  Antsy 'cause I'm high like Michael Jackson, penny loafers
  Moonwalkin' on the sun, barefoot, with shades on
  Bitch pussy smell like a penguin
  Wouldn't hit that shit with my worst enemy's penis
  Bitch, when I say this, I mean this
  Ho, I'm the meanest
  Dick so big, it's like from Earth to Venus
  That molly got me nauseous, 
  aw, shit, no off switch
  Lawless, obnoxious, on that "suck my cock" shit
  That is my synopsis, 
  ostrich's posh shit
  Hoes on some goth shit, stop it! You not this!
  Novice, regardless, heartless and awkward
  Cryin' tears of vodka, prima donna at the concert
  Adonis smokin' chronic, 'bout to vomit gin and tonic
  Just bein' honest, tell me, isn't that ironic?
  [Verse 6: Action Bronson]
  Swiftly, I shift the Bimmer 860
  A heavy smoker, so you know I brought the Blake with me
  The moon’s reflection off the lake hit me
  You should have stayed with me
  Now many Asian bitches lay with me
  The face is silky like a tablecloth
  My shorty gallop in the mornin' on the beach like a Chilean horse
  Red roses dropped from boxes very often
  Confetti torchin', 
  drinkin' Henny 
  like I'm Kenny Lofton
  Outstandin', I fixed the game between Georgia Southern and Gramblin'
  You see us scramblin', sellin' Susan Sarandon
  The cloud of smoke like the phantom
  Damn, this shit tastes like fantastic, uh
  You see me comin' through in each state
  Just so the lord could put the fork inside the cheesecake
  Cuffed to my wrist, I've got the briefcase
  The gavel slam, I'm a free man, try not to eat ham [Verse 7: Big K.R.I.T.]
  Big K.R.I.T., shawty
  Spit like my last breath: casket rap, six deep
  Eyes closed, the black is back, out come the 'lac with flats
  After that, bottles I can't pronounce, like, “How you ask for that?”
  Why you ask for crack and all you had was scratch?
  All I had was rap, when all they had was wack
  All I wanted was love and all they had was dap
  Fuck them haters and fuck them hoes, a championship win is
  The aftermath, ask LeBron, open palm, slap a bitch
  Walk the plank or break a bank, I've been in the business of sinkin' ships
  Chokin' niggas out with the anchors that they anchor with
  Resuscitations cost the label, I'm taxin' if you want a hit
  Clear, fuck your career, bitch, I was born here
  Been a killer, '86er nigga, that's my born year
  Get the fuck from 'round here, that's just my country ways
  Suckin' on your momma's titty, bitchin' while I was choppin' blade
  Grippin' grain, fuckin' hoes, candy paint like Everglades
  Miss me with that rapper chatter, take that shit up with my bass
  I put that on my soul, how could you ever doubt me?
  Most rappers hopin' the world end so they won't have to drop another album
  B.B. King saw the king in me, so why can't you?
  In order to come up close, you'll have to dig up Cash and Elvis, too
  (That wasn't no sample, nigga!)
  Muddy water flow, Dixie rebel past
  Fuck your Louis flag,
   poppin' benji tags on your wifey's ass (on your wifey's ass)
  That's out of line, but in livin' color?
  I'm more like Miya Bailey on you rap motherfuckers: a true artist