Jouvert song by BROCKHAMPTON from Primary Album Album not found. The music is composed and produced by Joel. Genre is Experimental Rap, Conscious Hip-Hop, Soca music. The Record company is unknown. Released on None.
video was originally posted on: Youtube
Jouvert Meaning
| [[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 roots, and yeah, I’m ’bout to bloom It’s that ’90 raised from hell shit, parlay like when the lane switch Combat how you feel, strobe light, I hit the killswitch 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, 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 Fuck the world, let’s start a riot Got too much, too quick God damn, I’m feelin’ sick, bitch, call the doctor Don’t act like I ain’t been dead to ya Don’t act like I ain’t deserve this shit Couldn’t last a day inside my head That’s why I did the drugs I did Got issues with these motherfuckers Looking down from they pedestals From that petty view, on that petty shit Pray for peace with a knife in my hand Speak my piece like a gun to my head Come equipped just to blast this shit Misunderstood since birth Fuck what you think, and fuck what you heard I feel betrayed, you can keep the praise And all of the fuck shit 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 motherfuckers Guess I’m too real , [Break: Lavaman] Excuse we? Let we pass, rum is the gas We ain’t play nice, little guy Doh blame meh, blame di rum, no t— [Bridge 1: Merlyn Wood, Lavaman] I be in my bag (Excuse we?) Goin’ in (Let we pass, rum is the gas) Guess who isn’t built for this, man? Me and my thugs built for this, man (Yeah) We goin’ for the gifts and the grams (Doh—) I be in my bag (Excuse we?) Goin’ in (Let we pass, rum is the gas) Smokin’ all the grams in this bag Man, you isn’t built for this, man (Yeah) Run it like the gingerbread man (Doh—) [Verse 3: Merlyn Wood] Fuck that shit, stay hydrated, nigga I’ma lick that bitch, go home, kiss my momma, wassup? Wassup? Black power fist hangin’ from my black ‘fro Yo, she saw me in that cereal, she want to lick a Oreo, damn Break the dam when I spit the flow I’m on the lamb like the fuckin’ wool 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 shit would (That this shit would work, work, work Work, work, work, work) (Work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work) , [Bridge 2: 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 three, I’m the don Zim, zim, zim out the Bim’, get shot One mill, two mill, three, that’s a lot, damn [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] |
