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• Artiste: Mick Jenkins
• Titre: Be That As It May
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Huh Turn it up Yo Aye man You know- You know I start all my verses with amen I don't end it- I don't end my prayers with- Ayy, Ayy, Ay-ay, man, Ay-ay, Ay Uh Be that as it may (Huh, yeah) Catch a body, catch a case (Huh, yeah) On any given Saturday (Huh, yeah) Everything ain't everything B.U.C.K.O. Junior Silver spoon out the fuckin' sewer Watch how I do her I'm in her face like some contour Beats of the Gods, beating the odds, Even Stevens The pisces of never sparing the rod As sure as the facts are Melanin don't guarantee black cards I shittin' in a room like Babar Niggas is holding court They only say his name in parseltongue, I'm Voldemort Hold the fort down without excessive force I'm full of sand, he think he stepped in a resort It's Pebble Beach You best keep working on your short game Nigga said he smelled me, told the youngin you can't snort game Torch lighter, they just don't want your flame on a plane You think the air is on, weatherman You gon' need a parasol There's only a handful of us left Say it with your chest like Fre$h, I hate 'em to death Get in still, I have been blessed I'm in your bitch like I had gills, the water's wet The sun is hot, they let these flaming niggas run amok They run in mosques Soulless niggas run in socks, they won't get no traction Beat the greatness out of you, I'm Joe Jackson I'm short-stopping, we endzones, no Bo Jackson Porch hopping on all ten Can't toe tag 'em, won't drag 'em Better know I hate it Brought them boys to water, found out all your dogs is rabid (Perfect) Raisin in the sun they think he with a Grape street native See, we speak the same language Ain't no way we ain't related The hoke, the boat, your throat, the ropes The noose, the neck, your soul, the check Bruh flow is a cuckhold, nasty work We in this ho to secure the bag, after birth Math don't work, I suggest you girls abort mission Heading towards a future with a mortician We do introductions Sharpen sword fishin', that's why niggas ducking I'ma up it Plenty Kermit, niggas really puppets It's a core missing The space between us usually more than distance The face patina is if the whore is vintage The pallet clean, a seven course for dinner The mallet meaner when it burst a nigga No ballerinas for the sport we spittin' Huh Be that as it may (Yeah) Catch a body, catch a case (Yeah) On any given Saturday (Yeah) Everything ain't everything Ahhhh