J'OUVERT – English Lyrics

• By: BROCKHAMPTON

Lyrics & Translation

[English]

Take it all, or leave it...

When there's a rough patch, don't eye for the parachute

They goin' AWOL the second that the light goes on

This a treat, ain't it? Soon as she hit the powder room

I pull it back and check my rose, and, yeah, I'm 'bout to bloom

It's that '90 raised from hell shit, parlay like when the lane switch

Combat how you feel, strobe light, I hit the killswitch

Neck twist like Exorcist, I'ma see you 'round

'Cause tonight's the night I'm losin' all I'm doin', I'm about this

White cuffs, wood grain

Money in the suitcase, on my way to the bank

White cuffs, wood grain

Money in the suitcase, on my way to the bank

On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank

On my way to the bank, suitcase

On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank

On my way to the bank

'Til the casket drops, I will play God

Fuck the world, let's start a riot

Got too much too quick

Goddamn, I'm feelin' sick, bitch, call the doctor

Don't act like I ain't been dead to ya

Don't act like I ain't deserve this shit

Couldn't last a day inside my head

That's why I did the drugs I did

Got issues with these motherfuckers

Lookin' down from they pedestals

From that petty view, on that petty shit

Pray for peace with a knife in my hand

Speak my piece like a gun to my head

Come equipped just to blast this shit

Misunderstood since birth

Fuck what you think, and fuck what you heard

I feel betrayed, you can keep the praise

And all of the fuck shit, need to get away

Still ain't got the fright to the fickle-minded people

I thought I knew better, wish I knew better

Should have known better, wish that I was better

At dealin' with the fame and you fake motherfuckers

Guess I'm too real

Excuse we, let we pass

Rum is the gas

We ain't play nice, little guy

Doh blame meh, blame di rum, no t–

I be in my bag (excuse we?)

Goin' in (let we pass)

Guess who isn't built for this, man?

Me and my thugs built for this, man

We goin' for the gifts and the grams

I be in my bag (excuse we?)

Goin' in (let we pass)

Smokin' all the grams in this bag

Man, you isn't built for this, man

Run it like the gingerbread man

Fuck that shit, stay hydrated, nigga

I'ma lick that bitch, go home, kiss my momma, wassup?

Wassup?

Black power fist hangin' from my black 'fro

Yo, she saw me in that cereal, she want to lick a Oreo, damn

Break the dam when I spit the flow

I'm on the lamb like the fuckin' wolf

Hoppin' out the van, I'm at Abbey Road

Fans with cameras in the bathroom, man, that's difficult

I just wanna smoke a Backwoods by my lonely self

Chill, watch numbers go up, book off the shelf

I found myself and put my face on a missin' shirt

I dropped out with no promise that this shit would–

(That this shit would work, work, work)

(Work, work, work, work)

(Work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work)

With the dogs, in my ride, know the doors suicide

Paranoid, do or die, you should know we never lie

With the dogs, in my ride, know the doors suicide

Paranoid, do or die, you should know we never lie

Pull up with the racks to your shop

Cop a medallion or three, I'm The Don

Zim, zim, zim out the bim, get shot

One mill', two mill', three, that's a lot, damn

White cuffs, wood grain

Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank

White cuffs, wood grain

Money in the suitcase on my way to the bank

On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank

On my way to the bank, bank, bank, suitcase

On my way to the bank, on my way to the bank

On my way to the bank, bank, bank