Sisyphus - Ajani Jones: testi di canzoni, video musicali e concerti

Sisyphus

1

Hip-Hop/Rap

Sisyphus è stato pubblicato il 27 febbraio 2026 da Ajani Jones come parte dell'album Sisyphus - Single

Dettagli della canzone

AlbumSisyphus - Single

Data di uscita27 febbraio 2026

EtichettaAjani Jones

LinguaEnglish

Melodicità

Acousticità

Valence

Ballabilità

Energia

BPM74

PANORAMICA

TESTI

Video musicale

Video musicale

Crediti

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Ajani Jones

Performer

Liam Clements

Performer

Jacob Niederman

Jacob Niederman

Saxophone

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Fredrick Jones

Lyrics

Liam Clements

Composer

Lucas Quinn

Beat Maker

Tal "T4L" Tamari

Tal "T4L" Tamari

Beat Maker

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Liam Clements

Recording Engineer, Mixing Engineer, Executive Producer

Jeremiah "Jae" Douglas

Jeremiah "Jae" Douglas

Mastering Engineer, Mixing Engineer

Lucas Quinn

Producer

Tal "T4L" Tamari

Tal "T4L" Tamari

Producer

Zack Zagula

Creative Director

Testi

It’s the rap Sisyphus, rollin’ up the spliff again,

Half-god, half-bored, born for the synonym.

Talk deep, sleep late, tweet like I’m innocent,

My peace on lease, got receipts for the cynicism.

Yea, the world end slow, it’s a rerun show,

I been channel surfin’ daily through the highs and lows.

Life feel scripted, Tarantino prose,

Blood on my timeline, scroll — there it goes.

I’m cold as the fridge in the college dorm,

Still warm when I spit, that’s a paradox for em.

Tryna meditate i’m tripping while the rent too high,

Broke the fourth wall, and i waved at the other guy.

I’m Yoda with a Yeti mic, sober off of petty spite,

Lost my type, still swipin’ right, in the dead of night

They sell dreams with a side of advice,

But I seen too much, can’t buy that twice.

Got faith in the void, and my hope in the ether,

i think my Heart like vinyl and i skip when it’s deeper.

yesterday i Told God chill, I’ll text him later

shit i been talking to his voicemail

he can wait for this paper to hit my pockets

to hit my pockets

hear no evil

(saxophone section)

I’m Tony Soprano with his therapist,

High talk, low faith, face till i cherish it.

Life a slow burn, and it turns no narrative,

screams in my dreams my name freddy that’s some scary shit

Scorsese grin, I’m the flawed one shorty

Said “cut,” but you know i kept the raw run shorty

got a low tide soul but my drift feel holy

i got my mask on like future, mask off mick foley

light the puffco

and burn away like wicker man

in wicker park

light in my chest like mr stark

i sensed it all like peter park

peter quill

playing with my peace

something i never do

my pedigree is triple H your pedigree is pettigrew

rats they in the crooked heat

got passion i was pushin P

pushing me

and grew my dreads out like I’m Booker T

the moral of the story we got ground to cover

the sounds discovered

music we was we bound as lovers

It’s the rap Sisyphus, rollin’ up the spliff again,

Half-god, half-bored, born for the synonym.

Talk deep, sleep late, tweet like I’m innocent,

My peace on lease, got receipts for the cynicism.

Yea, the world end slow, it’s a rerun show,

I been channel surfin’ daily through the highs and lows.

Life feel scripted, Tarantino prose,

Blood on my timeline, scroll — there it goes.

I’m cold as the fridge in a college dorm,

Still warm when I spit, that’s a paradox form.

Tryna meditate i’m tripping while the rent too high,

Broke the fourth wall, and i waved at the other guy.

I’m Yoda with a Yeti mic, sober off of petty spite,

Lost my type, still swipin’ right, in the dead of night

They sell dreams with a side of advice,

But I seen too much, can’t buy that twice.

Got faith in the void, and my hope in the ether,

i think my Heart like vinyl way it skip when it’s deeper.

yesterday I Told God chill, I’ll text him later

shit I been talking to his voicemail

he can wait for this paper to hit my pockets

hit my pockets

hear no evil

(saxophone)

Look,

I’m Tony Soprano with his therapist,

High talk, low faith, face till i cherish it.

Life a slow burn, and it turns no narrative,

screams in my dreams my name freddy that’s some scary shit

Scorsese grin, I’m the flawed one shorty

Said “cut,” but you know i kept the raw run shorty

got a low tide soul but my drift feel holy

i got my mask on like future, mask off mick foley

light the puffco

and burn away like wicker man

in wicker park

light in my chest like mr stark

i sensed it all like peter park

peter quill

playing with my peace

something i never do

my pedigree is triple H your pedigree is pettigrew

rats they in the crooked heat

got passion i was pushin P

pushing me

and grew my dreads out like I’m Booker T

the moral of the story we got ground to cover

the sounds discovered

music we was we bound as lovers

Written by: Fredrick Jones, Liam Clements

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