brockhampton – j’ouvert lyrics
[intro]
take it all or leave it
i feel you
[verse 1: matt champion]
when there’s a rough patch, don’t eye for the parachute
they goin’ awol the second that the light goes on
this a treat ain’t it, soon as she hit the powder room
i pull it back and check my rose, and yeah, i’m ’bout to bloom
it’s that ’90 raised from h-ll sh-t, parlay like when the lane switch
combat how you feel, strobe light, hit the k!llswitch
neck twist like exorcist, i’ma see you ’round
’cause tonight’s the night i’m losin’ all i’m doin’, i’m about this
[chorus: joba]
white cuffs, wood grain
money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
white cuffs, wood grain
money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
on my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
on my way to the bank, bank, bank, suitcase
on my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
on my way to the bank
[verse 2: joba]
’til the casket drops, i will play god
f-ck the world, let’s start a riot, got too much too quick
god d-mn, i’m feeling sick, b-tch, call the doctor
don’t act like i ain’t been dead to ya’
don’t act like i ain’t deserve this sh-t
couldn’t last a day inside my head
that’s why i did the drugs i did
got issues with these motherf-ckers
looking down from they pedestals
from that petty view, on that petty sh-t
pray for peace with a knife in my hand
speak my piece like a gun to my head
come equipped just to blast this sh-t
misunderstood since birth
f-ck what you think, and f-ck what you heard
i feel betrayed, you can keep the praise
and all of the f-ck sh-t, need to get away
still ain’t got the fright to the fickle-minded people
i thought i knew better, wish i knew better
should have known better, wish that i was better
at dealing with the fame and you fake motherf-ckers
guess i’m too real
[interlude: lavaman]
excuse we, let we p-ss, rum is the gas
we ain’t play nice, little guy
doh blame meh, blame di rum, no t—
[verse 3: merlyn wood, lavaman]
i be in my bag, (excuse we) goin’ in (let we p-ss)
guess who isn’t built for this, man?
me and my thugs built for this, man
we goin’ for the gifts and the grams
i be in my bag, (excuse we) goin’ in (let we p-ss)
smokin’ all the grams in this bag
man, you isn’t built for this, man
run it like a gingerbread man
f-ck that sh-t, stay hydrated n-gg-
i’ma let that b-tch go home, kiss my momma, w-ssup?
w-ssup?
black power fist hangin’ from my black ‘fro
yo, she saw me in that cereal, she want to lick a oreo, d-mn
break the dam when i spit the flow
i’m on the lam, not the f-ckin’ wolf
hoppin’ out the van, i’m at abbey road
fans with cameras in the bathroom, man that’s difficult
i just wanna smoke a backwoods by my lonely self
chill, watch numbers go up, book off the shelf
i found myself and put my face on a missing shirt
i dropped out with no promise that this sh-t would
(that this sh-t would work, work, work
work, work, work, work)
(work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work)
[bridge: bearface]
with the dogs, in my ride know the doors suicide
paranoid, do or die, you should know we never lie
with the dogs, in my ride, know the doors suicide
paranoid, do or die, you should know we never lie
pull up with the racks to your shop
cop a medallion or 3, i’m the don
zim, zim, zim out the bim, get shot
one, no two, no three, that’s a lot
d-mn
[chorus: joba]
white cuffs, wood grain
money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
white cuffs, wood grain
money in the suitcase on my way to the bank
on my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
on my way to the bank, bank, bank, suitcase
on my way to the bank, on my way to the bank
on my way to the bank, bank, bank
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