MICK JENKINS – JAZZ

Lyrics

Drink more water ... or you might die
Seven Nine, King Drive, you can picture me rollin', bending corners we was headed to the Rasta
Nigga been blessed but a nigga been sick and a nigga been stressed, so fuck it I'm a doctor
Self medicated, ginger ale in the champagne flutes and I ain't celebratin'
Just cooking up crack, where presentation's everything, tell ‘em wait 'til I plate it
Patience, I'm faded, like outdated denim
Hearin' it like this ‘bout as rare as cicadas, the boy got some Miles Davis in him
Talkin' all that jazz
Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Better watch your mouth, better watch your back
Better choose the right way on some fork in the road shit
And, of course, the path less traveled, fuck I look like followin' your footsteps?
Don't fumble, cause this ain't Sunday football, I ain't at home with a footrest
In fact I'm in front of the back of your head, but I'm coming from behind, better look left
Look left like where the fuck is he?
You got time on your head, boy, you got time on your head like you wearing buck fifty
Do it so clean but it's still so filthy, fuck with me
Cause you already know you fuck niggas really can't really talk with me
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz might get you popped
But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K
Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face
And a hand in the air like JFK
Wait, all in your steam better known as a hotbox
Crack rocks in a square, better known as block
Impaired tryna' move; that's hopscotch
Unfair one leg is a hell of a cock block
My nigga, what an anomaly
My nigga look at the world
My nigga what a monopoly
Drop tops in the hood, and they're sitting on 22's; nigga still on section 8 though
Tricking on the low for a ho nigga, mama at the crib trying to stretch a couple pesos
Couldn't paint a pretty picture with the tears and her makeup; better get MAACO
Makeovers help niggas make money, but I'ma always talk that James Moody
Most rappers these days is actors and I can't keep watching the same movie
These niggas keep sharing the same models and these models act like they ain't groupies
I ain't stupid, talking Duke Ellington, Count Bassie, Monk and Dave Brubeck
I ain't stupid, talking too eloquent, I ain't stutter, my nigga I ain't Ruben
Ginger ale for the hoes in champagne flutes, tell one of them come pour me a glass
She don't act up, she can get this truth, tell her ass read that while I roll this joint, nigga trying to relax
Cause the shit don't stop, I ain't trying to relapse
To that whack bullshit, Niggas better evac
When I drop, cause I swear that this black man ain't gon' stop talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz might get you popped
But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K
Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face
And a hand in the air like JFK
That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus
That Frank Sinatra
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus
That Frank Sinatra
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz

Paroles (Traduction)

Bois plus d'eau ... ou tu pourrais mourir
Seven Nine, King Drive, tu peux m'imaginer rouler, virant les coins, on se dirigeait vers le Rasta
Le gars a été béni mais le gars a été malade et le gars a été stressé, alors zut je suis un docteur
Auto-médicamenté, du ginger ale dans les flûtes de champagne et je ne célèbre pas
Juste en train de cuisiner du crack, où la présentation est tout, dis-leur d'attendre que je le serve
Patience, je suis défoncé, comme un jean démodé
L'entendre comme ça c'est aussi rare que les cigales, le gars a un peu de Miles Davis en lui
Parlant de tout ce jazz
Disant toute cette vérité, gars, parle ta merde
Ferais mieux de surveiller ta langue, ferais mieux de surveiller tes arrières
Ferais mieux de choisir le bon chemin comme une fourche sur la route
Et bien sûr, le chemin moins fréquenté, je ressemble à quoi à te suivre?
Ne trébuche pas, car ce n'est pas du football du dimanche, je ne suis pas chez moi avec un repose-pieds
En fait, je suis devant l'arrière de ta tête, mais je viens de derrière, ferais mieux de regarder à gauche
Regarde à gauche comme où est-il foutu?
Tu as du temps sur la tête, gars, tu as du temps sur la tête comme si tu portais un bandana
Je le fais tellement propre mais c'est quand même si sale, emmerde-moi
Parce que tu sais déjà que les enfoirés ne peuvent vraiment pas discuter avec moi
Parlant de tout ce jazz, parlant de tout ce jazz
Disant toute cette vérité, gars, parle ta merde
Gars, parle ta merde
Parlant de tout ce jazz, parlant de tout ce jazz
Disant toute cette vérité, gars, parle ta merde
Gars, parle ta merde
Parlant de tout ce jazz, parlant de tout ce jazz
Disant toute

Thématique L'eau

Style Rap

Keywords Chicago, Mixtape

Entités normées Mick Jenkins, Tom Vin