Jazz Lyrics - Mick Jenkins

Drink more water... or you might die 

Seven Nine, King Drive, you can picture me rollin' 

Bendin' corners we was headed to the Rasta 

Nigga been blessed but a nigga been sick 

And a nigga been stressed so, fuck it I'm a doctor 

Self medicated, ginger ale in the champagne flutes 

And I ain't celebratin', shookin' up crack 

Where presentation's everything, tell 'em wait 'til I'm plated 

Patience, I'm faded 

like outdated denim 

Hearin' it like this about as rare as a cadence 

The boy got some Miles Davis in him 

Talkin' all that jazz 

Tellin' all that truth, nigga talk your shit 

Better watch your mouth, better watch your back 

Better choose the right way on some fork in the road shit 

And of course the path less traveled 

Fuck I look like followin' your footsteps? 

Don't fumble cause this ain't Sunday football 

I ain't at home with a footrest 

In fact I'm in front of the back of your head 

But I'm comin' from behind, better look left 

Look left like where the fuck is he? 

You got time on your head boy 

You got time on your head like you wearing buck fifty 

Do it so clean but it's still so filthy, fuck with me 

Cause you already know you fuck niggas really can't really talk with me 

Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz 

Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit 

Nigga talk your shit 

Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz 

Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit 

Nigga talk your shit 

Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz 

Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit 

Nigga talk your shit 

Talking all that jazz might get you popped 

But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K 

Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face 

And a hand in the air like JFK 

Wait, all in your steam better known as a hotbox 

Crack rocks in a square, better known as block 

Impaired tryna move that's hopscotch 

Unfair one leg is a hell of a cock block 

My nigga what an anomaly 

My nigga look at the world, my nigga what a monopoly 

Drop tops in the hood, and they sitting on 22's 

Nigga still on section 8 though 

Tricking on the low for a ho nigga 

Momma at the crib tryna stretch a couple pesos 

Couldn't paint a pretty picture with the tears and her makeup 

Better get MAACO, makeovers help niggas make money 

But I'm a always talk that James Moody 

Most rappers these days is actors 

And I can't keep watching the same movie 

These niggas keep sharing the same models 

And these models act like they ain't groupies 

I ain't stupid, talking Duke Ellington, Count Bassie, Monk and Dave Brubeck 

I ain't stupid, talking too eloquent, I ain't stutter, my nigga I ain't Ruben 

Ginger ale for the hoes in champagne flutes 

Tell one of them come pour me a glass 

She don't act up, she can get this truth 

Tell her ass read that while I roll this joint 

Nigga tryna relax, cause the shit don't stop 

I ain't tryna relapse to that whack bullshit 

Niggas better evac when I drop 

Cause I swear that this black man ain't stop 

Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz 

Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit 

Nigga talk your shit 

Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz 

Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit 

Nigga talk your shit 

Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz 

Telling all that truth, nigga talk your shit 

Nigga talk your shit 

Talking all that jazz might get you popped 

But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K 

Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face 

And a hand in the air like JFK 

That Coltrane 

That Charlie Parker 

That Charles Mingus 

That Frank Sinatra 

Talking all that jazz, talking all that jazz 

That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus 

That Frank Sinatra 

Talking all that jazz 

Talking all that jazz 

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