Jazz

Drink more water Or you might die Seven Nine, King Drive, you can picture me rollin' Bendin' corners, we were headed to the Rasta Nigga been blessed but a nigga been sick And a nigga been stressed so, fuck it I'm a doctor Self-medicated, ginger ale in the champagne flutes And I ain't celebratin', shook in up crack Where presentation's everything, tell 'em wait 'til I'm plated Patience, I'm faded Like outdated denim Hearin' it like this about as rare as a cadence The boy got some Miles Davis in him Talkin' all that jazz Tellin' all that truth, nigga talk your shit Better watch your mouth, better watch your back Better choose the right way on some fork in the road shit And of course the path less traveled Fuck, 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 fuck 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, fuck with me Cause you already know, you fuck niggas really can't really talk with me Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit Nigga talk your shit Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit Nigga talk your shit Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit Nigga talk your shit 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 cock block My nigga what an anomaly My nigga look at the world, my nigga what a monopoly Drop tops in the hood, and they're sitting on 22's Nigga still on section 8 though Tricking on the low for a ho nigga 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 niggas make money But I'm always talking that James Moody Most rappers these days is actors And I can't keep watching the same movie These niggas keep sharing the same models And these models act like they ain't groupies I ain't stupid, talking Duke Ellington, Count Bassie, Monk and Dave Brubeck I ain't stupid, talking too eloquent, I ain't stutter, my nigga I ain't Ruben Ginger ale for the hoes in champagne flutes Tell one of them to come pour me a glass She doesn't act up, she can get this truth Tell her ass read that while I roll this joint Nigga tryna relax, 'cause the shit don't stop I ain't tryna relapse to that whack bullshit Niggas better evac when I drop 'Cause I swear that this black man ain't stop Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit Nigga talk your shit Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit Nigga talk your shit Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit Nigga talk your shit 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 Frank Sinatra Talking all that jazz Talking all that jazz