J'ouvert - Brockhampton
[Music video intro:] (Me llamo Roberto, y estos son los suenos que no olvidados)
(Take it all or leave it)
(I feel you)
When there's a rough patch, don't eyef_ck the parachute
They goin' AWOL the second that the light goes on
This a treat ain't it, so initiate the powder room
I pull it back and check my rosie, and yeah, I'm bout to bloom
It's that ninety nine from hell sh_t, parlay like when the lane switch
Combat how you feel, strobe light, 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
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
'Til the casket drops, I will play God
F_ck the world, let's start a riot
Got too much too quick
God damn, 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
'Cause that's the day, inside my head
That's why I did the drugs I did
Got issues with these motherf_ckers
Looking down from they pedestals
On 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 get to pray 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
Excuse we, let me pass
[?]
We ain't playin' nice
Little guy
[?]
I'll be in my bag (excuse we)
Goin' in (let me pass)
Guess who isn't built for this, man?
Me and my thugs built for this, man
We goin' for the gifts in the gram
I'll be in my bag (excuse we)
Goin' in (let me pass)
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_gga
I'ma let that b_tch go home, 'cause, my momma, wassup?
Wassup?
Black power fist hangin' from my black 'fro
Yo, she saw me in that cereal she wants a n_gga Oreo, damn
Break the dam when I spit the flow
I'm on the lam, not the f_ckin' wolf
Hoppin' out the van, I'm on 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)
With the dogs, in my ride, 'nother door, suicide
Paranoid, do or die, you should know, never lie
With the dogs, in my ride, 'nother door, suicide
Paranoid, do or die, you should know, never lie
Pull up with the racks to your shop
[?]
Sim sim sim badda bim, get shot
One, now two, now three, that's a lot, damn
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
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