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• Artiste: Mick Jenkins
• Titre: Michelin Star
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Uh Ayy, speakers knock, but I didn't get in by my lonely Lighters up, I gotta burn one for the homies that forever stayed Down since the only island that we seen was Stoney Water murky, that joint felt more like the Everglades High-rises built just like Section 8, you trapped up there Purgin' all this fool shit, know that you can smell the sage, you step in here Baggin' up the Echinacea, what's the tea on me? He too low-key, I'm sellin' lеmonade I stay out the way, it's niggas in the way, swеar, they not in the way And would feel a way if I mention names, this shit is strange These niggas facts be opinion based, but not in your face Shiftin' shapes when they in your space, I'm a square reader A small circle and we ain't out of the air, neither We all tortoise, came out of our shell, niggas not here for the fair weather Ain't under no spell, I know you smell what a nigga cookin, I'm hungry as hell These niggas gon' bear witness a Michelin star, could see it this far Back when a nigga was line cookin', I'm sous chefin' these days Proof-readin' these plates with a fine-tooth comb, won't find a line crooked Still castin' lines, now I'm hookin' big fish out these waves Yeah, still remember when it was minimum wage, yeah Remember niggas went through their parts, no complaints Now the art get contaminated and hearts full of shade, tend not to harp on the hate Ayy, speakers knock but I didn't get in by my lonely Lighters up, I gotta burn one for the homies that forever stayed down