Jazz

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

Bending 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'

Just cooking up crack

Where presentation’s everything tell ‘em wait 'til I plate it

Patience, I'm faded, like outdated denim

Hearin’ it like this ‘bout as rare as cicadas

The boy got some Miles Davis in him, talkin' all that jazz

Telling 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 coming 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're sitting on 22's

Nigga still on section 8 though

Tricking on the low for a ho nigga

Mama at the crib trying to 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'ma 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 Basie, 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 trying to relax, 'cause the shit don't stop

I ain't trying to relapse, to that whack bullshit

Niggas better evac when I drop

Cause I swear that this black man ain't gon' stop

Talking all that jazz

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