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 eyef** 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 raised from hell sh**, parlay like when the lane switch Combat how you feel, strobe light, hit the k**switch 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, bank, bank [Verse 2: Joba] 'Til the casket drops, I will play God f** the world, let's start a riot, got too much too quick God damn, I'm feeling sick, b**h, call the doctor Don't act like I ain't been dead to ya Don't act like I ain't deserve this sh** Couldn't last a day inside my head, that's why I did the d** I did Got issues with these motherf**ers Looking down from they pedestals On that petty view, on that petty sh** 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**, misunderstood since birth f** what you think, and f** what you heard I feel betrayed, you can keep the praise And all of the f** sh**, 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**ers Guess I'm too real [Interlude] Excuse we, let me pa**, let me see your a** We ain't playin' nice, little guy Now let me, let me run mah t— [Verse 3: Merlyn Wood] I'll be in my bag, (excuse we) goin' in (let me pa**) 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'll be in my bag, (excuse we) goin' in (let me pa**) Smokin' all the grams in this bag, man, you isn't built for this, man Run it like a gingerbread man, f** that sh**, stay hydrated n***a I'ma let that b**h go home, 'cause my momma, wa**up Wa**up? 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 Lam', not the f**in' wolf Hoppin' out the van, I'm in 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** would (That this sh** would work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work) (Work, work, work, work, work, work, work) [Bridge: bearface] 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 Pop em in, Cali and the 3 on dime Sim sim sim badda 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