Mick Jenkins - Jazz lyrics

Drink more water... or you might die Seven Nine, King Drive, you can picture me rollin' Bendin' corners we was headed to the Rasta n***a been blessed but a n***a been sick And a n***a been stressed so, f** it I'm a doctor Self medicated, ginger ale in the champagne flutes And I ain't celebratin', shookin' up crack Where presentation's everything, tell 'em wait 'til I'm plated Patience, I'm faded, like outdated denim Hearin' it like this about as rare as a cadence The boy got some Miles Davis in him Talkin' all that jazz Tellin' all that truth, n***a talk your sh** Better watch your mouth, better watch your back Better choose the right way on some fork in the road sh** And of course the path less traveled f** I look like followin' your footsteps? Don't fumble cause this ain't Sunday football I ain't at home with a footrest In fact I'm in front of the back of your head But I'm comin' from behind, better look left Look left like where the f** is he? You got time on your head boy You got time on your head like you wearing buck fifty Do it so clean but it's still so filthy, f** with me Cause you already know you f** n***as really can't really talk with me Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, n***a talk your sh** n***a talk your sh** [x3] Talking all that jazz might get you popped But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face And a hand in the air like JFK Wait, all in your steam better known as a hotbox Crack rocks in a square, better known as block Impaired tryna move that's hopscotch Unfair one leg is a hell of a co*k block My n***a what an anomaly My n***a look at the world, my n***a what a monopoly Drop tops in the hood, and they sitting on 22's n***a still on section 8 though Tricking on the low for a ho n***a Momma at the crib tryna stretch a couple pesos Couldn't paint a pretty picture with the tears and her makeup Better get MAACO, makeovers help n***as make money But I'm a always talk that James Moody Most rappers these days is actors And I can't keep watching the same movie These n***as keep sharing the same models And these models act like they ain't groupies I ain't stupid, talking Duke Ellington, Count Ba**ie, Monk and Dave Brubeck I ain't stupid, talking too eloquent, I ain't stutter, my n***a I ain't Ruben Ginger ale for the hoes in champagne flutes Tell one of them come pour me a gla** She don't act up, she can get this truth Tell her a** read that while I roll this joint n***a tryna relax, cause the sh** don't stop I ain't tryna relapse to that whack bullsh** n***as better evac when I drop Cause I swear that this black man ain't talking all that jazz Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, n***a talk your sh** n***a talk your sh** [x3] Talking all that jazz might get you popped But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face And a hand in the air like JFK That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus That Frank Sinatra Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus That Frank Sinatra Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz