The Light
Mick Jenkins
Oh, it's a gnat in here
Get out of here, gnat
You got something to tell me, gnat?
You got something you want to tell me, gnat?
Huh? Alright
Cuff my nuts, place myself on house arrest
Locked in, judge, jury, bailiff, bet
When it rains, I'm dry, sun shines, I'm wet
Push up demons, fuck it, doin' 'bout 50, 11 sets
Ignoring your texts like sweet babies who cry in the church
Or if your partner got popped yesterday and school come first
My favorite color's yellow, maybe 'cause I'm mellow
And I got so much style, it's probably 'cause I'm ghetto
My mommy never cooked a Cosby dinner
And often times I took a L for Mrs. Winters
But I'm getting off the subject
Off the boat, got my luggage but the quote
Pack light starts to echo through my mind
So I'm rushing now, hushing now
Laid my suitcase down like prom night
Zipped it open started pulling out
Tossin' memories, socks, thoughts who pretend to be
Boxer briefs, pants, pictures of frenemies killing me
To make room, room, room, for the light
Lately I been sober, chasin' new highs
Cut the cord to my bungee
You can be yourself, don't be shy
Take your time, don't you rush things
Thought I bought a Rollie, but forget that, I didn't need it
Just let that holy water wash over my Caesar dressing
Like that Thursday in November, know that they'll remember style
Boil it then let it simmer down, we blowing smoke between the breeze
The twists are Senegalese
No more Backwoods blown, we ride the rings of memories
We wired the intricacies of our logic, no hands in my pocket
Still got my hand on my weapon
He more Malcolm than Martin, a bit more Baldwin than both
You need a cauldron for mixing a black man's soul into soup
So many fishbowls can't cope, you cracking jokes 'bout the soap
We more concerned with the truth
You niggas burning the booth, these niggas burning the wick at both ends
Fade to black I'm ghosting in the light
Lately I been waking up at night, tryna to beat the day
Overconfident, I can't be Issa Rae
To make room, room, room, for the light
Lately I been sober, chasin' new highs
Cut the cord to my bungee
You can be yourself, don't be shy (Yeah)
Take your time, don't you rush things
I know what I know, but you heard what you heard
So you poked your head in, got suspicion confirmed
Been on my feet for miles, so my soul got some burn
Still it's fuck how you feel on my bottle of pills
If you can't hold me down then you don't get a turn
Yeah, yeah, fame is less worse, nothing sacred no more
Either take what you want or you make what you earn
If I kill you, I promise, I'll pray for you first, like
Ooh-ooh (Hallelujah, Hallelujah)
If you love me, grease my scalp with this 380 in my lap, like
Ooh, yeah
To make room, room, room, for the light (What's the worst thing that could happen? Use the answer to relapse)
Lately I been sober, chasin' new highs
Cut the cord to my bungee
You can be yourself, don't be shy (Yeah)
Take your time, don't you rush things
compositores: Jayson Jenkins, Olu O. Fann, Eian Undrai Parker
Você é fã de Mick Jenkins? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
Get out of here, gnat
You got something to tell me, gnat?
You got something you want to tell me, gnat?
Huh? Alright
Cuff my nuts, place myself on house arrest
Locked in, judge, jury, bailiff, bet
When it rains, I'm dry, sun shines, I'm wet
Push up demons, fuck it, doin' 'bout 50, 11 sets
Ignoring your texts like sweet babies who cry in the church
Or if your partner got popped yesterday and school come first
My favorite color's yellow, maybe 'cause I'm mellow
And I got so much style, it's probably 'cause I'm ghetto
My mommy never cooked a Cosby dinner
And often times I took a L for Mrs. Winters
But I'm getting off the subject
Off the boat, got my luggage but the quote
Pack light starts to echo through my mind
So I'm rushing now, hushing now
Laid my suitcase down like prom night
Zipped it open started pulling out
Tossin' memories, socks, thoughts who pretend to be
Boxer briefs, pants, pictures of frenemies killing me
To make room, room, room, for the light
Lately I been sober, chasin' new highs
Cut the cord to my bungee
You can be yourself, don't be shy
Take your time, don't you rush things
Thought I bought a Rollie, but forget that, I didn't need it
Just let that holy water wash over my Caesar dressing
Like that Thursday in November, know that they'll remember style
Boil it then let it simmer down, we blowing smoke between the breeze
The twists are Senegalese
No more Backwoods blown, we ride the rings of memories
We wired the intricacies of our logic, no hands in my pocket
Still got my hand on my weapon
He more Malcolm than Martin, a bit more Baldwin than both
You need a cauldron for mixing a black man's soul into soup
So many fishbowls can't cope, you cracking jokes 'bout the soap
We more concerned with the truth
You niggas burning the booth, these niggas burning the wick at both ends
Fade to black I'm ghosting in the light
Lately I been waking up at night, tryna to beat the day
Overconfident, I can't be Issa Rae
To make room, room, room, for the light
Lately I been sober, chasin' new highs
Cut the cord to my bungee
You can be yourself, don't be shy (Yeah)
Take your time, don't you rush things
I know what I know, but you heard what you heard
So you poked your head in, got suspicion confirmed
Been on my feet for miles, so my soul got some burn
Still it's fuck how you feel on my bottle of pills
If you can't hold me down then you don't get a turn
Yeah, yeah, fame is less worse, nothing sacred no more
Either take what you want or you make what you earn
If I kill you, I promise, I'll pray for you first, like
Ooh-ooh (Hallelujah, Hallelujah)
If you love me, grease my scalp with this 380 in my lap, like
Ooh, yeah
To make room, room, room, for the light (What's the worst thing that could happen? Use the answer to relapse)
Lately I been sober, chasin' new highs
Cut the cord to my bungee
You can be yourself, don't be shy (Yeah)
Take your time, don't you rush things
compositores: Jayson Jenkins, Olu O. Fann, Eian Undrai Parker
Você é fã de Mick Jenkins? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
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