旋律
歌曲有多麼清晰易記且符合明確音樂模式的旋律。通常,旋律分明的作品會擁有清晰易記的器樂或人聲主線。
原聲音質
此指標衡量一首歌曲在多大程度上依賴原聲樂器 (例如鋼琴、吉他、小提琴、鼓、薩克斯風),而非電子或數位合成音效
Valence
歌曲透過和聲與節奏所傳達的音樂積極性或情感基調。數值高通常對應快樂、興奮或愉悅感,數值低則與悲傷、憤怒或憂鬱相關。
節奏感
綜合了節拍穩定性、節奏型態與重拍強度等多重因素,以判定一首歌曲適合跳舞的程度。一首「節奏感強」的歌曲,通常具備穩定的速度、重複的音樂結構與明顯的強拍。
輕快
曲目的律動感可能受節奏快慢、音量起伏與聲譜密度所影響。較輕快的歌曲通常節奏強勁,編曲豐滿;反之,不太輕快的歌曲則可能編曲簡約、節奏較慢。
BPM80
音樂影片
音樂影片
積分
演出藝人
J. Cole
聲樂
Grant Green
取樣音源藝人
Richard Pryor
取樣音源藝人
詞曲
J. Cole
詞曲創作
Alan Bergman
作曲家
瑪麗蓮・伯格曼
作曲家
Quincy Jones
作曲家
Richard Pryor
作曲家
製作與工程團隊
Chris Athens
母帶工程師
J. Cole
製作人
Juro "Mez" Davis
混音師
歌詞
[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


