Lyrics: Kendrick Lamar/AzChike/Sounwave/Scott Bridgeway/Sean Momberger/Little Beaver/Michael Legrand
Music: Kendrick Lamar/AzChike/Sounwave/Scott Bridgeway/Sean Momberger/Little Beaver/Michael Legrand
Arranger: Sounwave
Producer: Scott Bridgeway/Sean Momberger/Sounwave
Heal the helping hand
Your fellow men, oh-oh, myβ
Ayy, what?
Look
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
Huh? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
Hm, alright
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
Huh? They talkin' 'bout nothin', hm
Peekaboo, how'd you put them boogers in my chain?
Peekaboo, eighty pointers like a Kobe game
Peekaboo, 7.62'll make 'em plank
Peekaboo, poppin' out, you better not smoke my name
Peekaboo, put two foreigns on the 405
Peekaboo, catch me cacio e pepe him for doin' pasta
Peekaboo, why you actin' tough on IG live?
Peekaboo, you know my lil' niggas off they rocker
Peekaboo, surprise, b***h, it's that n***a Chuck E. Cheese
Peekaboo, let me FaceTime my opp, b***h, I'm in the streets
Peekaboo, Yeah, it's AzChike, I'm somethin' to sleep
Peekaboo, he on the ground, I praise God and start stompin' feet
Peekaboo, I put ten on his face, b***h, my shooter plan
Peekaboo, I hit it from the back, I told her move her hand
Peekaboo, then slide my thumb in it, where herβ uh, at
Peekaboo, I'm on yo' top, I'm with Dot, b***h, don't look back
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
Huh? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin', hm
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, that's my b***h
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, that's my b***h
Hey, hey, hey, hey, with all that fake shit
Hey, hey, hey, hey, ain't the one to play with
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, pull off in a Lamb'
Double parkin' all at tens, Mr. Get-Off-On-Yo-Mans
If he hatin', disrespect, you better follow up with hands
Losses to the neck, but now I'm trophied up, I'm sayin', like
Bing-bap-boom-boom-boom-bap-bam
The type of shit I'm on, you wouldn't understand
The type of skits I'm on, you wouldn't understand
Big dog business, I would not hold yo' hand
Broke b***h business, I could not be your man
N***r his ass whooped until we open up that can
Damn, alley-oop me bands, I'ma slam
Gym freak b***h, I like my MAC touchin' yams
Play the opps all around me, I'ma tell you, "Turn it off"
Heard what happened to yo' mans, not sorry for your loss
Should've prayed before them shooters came and nailed him to cross
I let yo' boy get a pass, b***h, you lucky he soft, for real
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
Huh? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin', hm, ayy
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin'
What they talkin' 'bout? They talkin' 'bout nothin'
Huh? They ain't talkin' 'bout nothin', hm, ayy
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