Mick Jenkins - Smoke Break-Dance pe Lyrkit

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Smoke Break-Dance

Smoke Break-Dance

(album: The Patience - 2023)

[Mick Jenkins:]
And I (Uh)
And I
And I keep rolling up (Ooh, ooh)
And I keep rolling up

Weed blowing down, weed blowing up
Hot air in me, we going up, still is
No feet going up, fees going up, we pouring up
We throwing up gang signs

Trees going up in flames, find us a forest fire every smoke break
We opened up weak space, nigga, we gave our hangtime, we tryna reclaim time
We finna rebuild, no Home Depot with us, people with us
That come from the FaceTime, low-key like the bassline
Got smoke and I keep rolling up
Yeah, I keep rolling up
Keep getting high, beats getting low, we getting by
I can't complain, I wouldn't know how to make you feel me
I know they can smell me, though
I know they can see a motherfucker coming from a mile away
I ain't sending smoke signals, big smoke send signals either way, don't it?
Put a eighth in it, motherfucker got some weight on it and some wax in it
Don't play with it, all the way from concentrate with it
Juice like fresh OJ, it's the tangie that I stay with
Soon as they hit it, I keep rolling up

Weed blowing down, weed blowing up
Hot air in me, we going up, still is (Gas)
No feet going up, fees going up, we pouring up
We throwing up gang signs (We throwing up gang signs)

And I keep rolling up, huh
And I keep rolling up

[JID:]
Uh
I roll this one for the road, two for the show, three for the dough
Three .45s, got a 50-piece from the wing spot
(Kicked, kicked, kicked out my mind)
And I'm coming back with some food and some ganja
But it's only me and you in this ride (Look)
Just a little bitty piece of weed'll make a nigga feel like he ain't going off the deep end
I ain't even been asleep in 'bout a week (Mm-mm), didn't even think about it
We was at the bottom, I was guided by the beast, guided by the gloves, guided by the streets
Where the money? Said he got about a week to get it all, got him by a leash
Try to find a lil' peace but the mystery to me is unsolved
Take a breather, hit the reefer, smoke cough through the blunt fog (Mm-mm)
Got a stash full of big gas, I can tell you what they run for
But I don't trap so it won't matter, everybody do a blunt toast
Like the white folks when they clink glasses, told my nigga at the front, "Toast"
So I move slow but I think faster (Mm-mm), 12 knocking at the front door—, shh
Be quiet, keep passin, I don't wanna see nobody that I know and love laying in a deep casket
Bud through all the stress and madness (Mm-mm)
A nigga keep rolling up

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