Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Mick Jenkins
Mick Jenkins
Vocals
JID
JID
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jayson Jenkins
Jayson Jenkins
Songwriter
Matthew Moleta
Matthew Moleta
Songwriter
JID
JID
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Stoic
Stoic
Producer
Introts
Introts
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

And I (uh) And I And I keep rollin' up (ooh, ooh), hm And I keep rollin' up Weed blowin' down, weed blowin' up Hot air in me, we goin' up, still is No feet goin' up, fees goin' up, we pourin' up We throwin' up gang signs Trees going up in flames, find us a forest fire every smoke break We opened up weak space, nigga, we gave our hangtime, we tryna reclaim time We finna rebuild, no Home Depot with us, people with us that come from the FaceTime Low-key like the bassline, got smoke and I keep rollin' up Yeah, I keep rollin' up Keep gettin' high, beats gettin' low, we gettin' by I can't complain, I wouldn't know how to make you feel me I know they can smell me, though I know they can see a motherfucker comin' from a mile away I ain't sendin' smoke signals, big smoke send signals either way, don't it? Put a eighth in it, motherfucker got some weight on it and some wax in it Don't play with it, all the way from concentrate with it, juice like fresh OJ It's the tangie that I stay with, soon as they hit it, I keep rollin' up Weed blowin' down, weed blowin' up Hot air in me, we goin' up, still is (gas) No feet goin' up, fees goin' up, we pourin' up We throwin' up gang signs (we throwin' up gang signs) And I keep rollin' up, huh And I keep rollin' up (uh) I roll this one for the road, two for the show, three for the dough 3:45, got a fifty-piece from the wing spot (geek-geek-geeked out my mind) And I'm coming back with food and some ganja But it's only me and you in this ride (look) Just a little bitty piece of weed'll make a nigga feel like he ain't going off the deep end I ain't even been asleep in 'bout a week (mm-mm), didn't even think about it We was at the bottom, I was guided by the beats, guided by the guns, guided by the streets Where the money? Said he got about a week to get it all, got him by a leash Try to find a lil' peace but the mystery to me is unsolved Take a breather, hit the reefer, smoke cough through the blunt fog (mm-mm) Got a stash full of big gas, I can tell you what they run for But I don't trap so it won't matter, everybody do a blunt toast Like the white folks when they clink glasses, told my nigga at the front, "Toast" So I move slow, but I think faster (mm-mm), 12 knocking at the front door Shh, be quiet, keep passin', I don't wanna see nobody that I know and love layin' in a deep casket But through all the stress and madness (mm-mm), a nigga keep rollin' up Gotta figure that the problem niggas got is mental Lotta niggas figure shit is only incidental Go figure, I'ma keep smoking this tree Roll one mo' up, why not three?
Writer(s): Destin Route, Jayson Jenkins, Matt Moleta Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out