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在过去一周中,BRACKETS 在大约在 35 秒 秒时进入被发现的频率最高
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旋律性
歌曲的曲调是否清晰易记,是否遵循了明确的音乐模式。旋律性强的歌曲一般具有清晰、令人难忘的器乐或声线。
不插电
衡量一首歌曲对不插电乐器(例如钢琴、吉他、小提琴、鼓、萨克斯)而非电子或数字合成的依赖程度
Valence
通过歌曲的和声和节奏成分,传达的音乐积极性或情感基调。高情感值与幸福、兴奋和愉悦的感觉相对应,而低情感值则与悲伤、愤怒或忧郁有关。
舞蹈性
综合各种因素,包括节奏的稳定性、节奏模式和节拍重点,来确定一首歌曲是否适合跳舞。一首“适合跳舞”的歌曲可能具有稳定的节奏、重复的音乐结构和强烈的重拍。
能量
曲目的感知强度,可能受节奏、动态和音乐紧凑程度的影响。一首高能量的歌曲可能节奏欢快、乐器编配丰富,而一首低能量的歌曲则可能音乐编配简洁、节奏较慢。
BPM80
歌词
[Intro]
Lots of shit happen like being in show business
A lot of shit happens
Like, like I make a lot of money, you know
And I'm really happy about it, I'm not bragging
I just want to say, I make so fucking–, it's ridiculous
But wait, wait a minute, wait
If my father was alive today
I would go home and say
"Dad, I'ma tell you how much money I make"
You know what he would say?
"You's a lying motherfucker
Joe Louis didn't make that much money
Coming here to–, get you ass out the house
Coming with that bullshit"
[Verse 1]
**** hating on me, I ain't used to that
Know a couple people wanna shoot for that
I say no, no, no, chill it, ain't no need for that
Them **** tryna blow and they need me for that
And if it work for them, well shit, I'm cool with that
Plus how they feel, I ain't got shit to do with that
I just sit back on cool and watch my paper stack
And trip off how much bread them crackers take from that
[Refrain]
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 2]
It's been a long time since I have felt this way
About something, but now, but now
I'm controlling my mind, the days are warm
The nights are cool, the lost is found, I'm found
Lord knows I need something to fill this void
Lord knows I need something to fill this void
Lord knows I need something to fill this void
Lord knows I need something to fill this void
[Verse 3]
Hell yeah, boy, I'm a got-damn millionaire now
Hell yeah, ****, **** can't tell me shit now, boy
Hell, no, fuck that
Bitch, got my first motherfuckin' million-dollar check
****, I'm lit, boy, you crazy as hell
Hold up, it's my phone real quick
It's my Unc, Uncle Sam and shit
Wassup Unc!
Yup, hell yeah
I told you that check was coming in, I got you
Came in, goddamn, I'm a man of my word
Goddamn, I told you I'ma have it
And goddamn I'ma have it for you, shit, damn right
Well how much, how much was it though?
Huh? Huh? Half? Half?
****, you crazy boy
You crazy as a–, bitch, you crazy as fuck
Bitch, bitch, you better suck half my dick!
[Verse 4]
I pay taxes, so much taxes, shit don't make sense
Where do my dollars go, you see lately I ain't been convinced
I guess they say my dollars supposed to build roads and schools
But my **** barely graduate, they ain't got the tools
Maybe 'cause the tax dollars that I make sure I send
Get spent hiring some teachers that don't look like them
And the curriculum be trickin' 'em, them dollars I spend
Got us learning 'bout the heroes with the whitest of skin
One thing about the men that's controlling the pen
That write history, they always seem to white-out they sins
Maybe we'll never see a Black man in the White House again
I write a check to the IRS, my pockets get slim, damn
Do I even have a say 'bout where it's goin'?
Some older **** told me to start votin'
I said, "Democracy is too fuckin' slow"
If I'm giving y'all this hard-earned bread, I wanna know
Better yet, let me decide, bitch, it's 2018
Let me pick the things I'm funding from an app on my screen
Better that than letting whack congressmen I've never seen
Dictate where my money goes, straight into the palms
Of some money hungry company
That make guns that circulate the country
And then wind up in my hood makin' bloody clothes
Stray bullet hit a young boy with a snotty nose
From the concrete, he was probably rose
Now his body froze and nobody knows what to tell his mother
He did good at the white man schools, unlike his brother
Who was lost in the streets all day, not using rubbers
So right now he got two on the way
Still sleep on covers in his momma house
She can't take this shit no more, she want him out
On the morning of the funeral just as she's walking out
Wiping tears away, grabbing her keys and sunglasses
She remembered that she gotta file her taxes, damn
[Outro]
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Written by: Alan Bergman, J. Cole, Marilyn Bergman, Quincy Jones, Richard Pryor


