BROCKHAMPTON – J'OUVERT lyrics

[Intro]
Take it all or leave it
I feel you

[Verse 1: Matt Champion]
When there's a rough patch, don't eyefuck the parachute
They goin' AWOL the second that the light goes on
This a treat ain't it, so initiate the powder room
I pull it back and check my rosie, and yeah, I'm bout to bloom
It's that ninety raised from hell shit, parlay like when the lane switch
Combat how you feel, strobe light, 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

[Chorus: Joba]
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

[Verse 2: Joba]
'Til the casket drops, I will play God
Fuck the world, let's start a riot, got too much too quick
God damn, I'm feeling 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
Looking down from they pedestals
On 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 dealing with the fame and you fake motherfuckers
Guess I'm too real

[Interlude]
Excuse we, let me pass, let me see your ass
We ain't playin' nice, little guy
Now let me, let me run mah t—

[Verse 3: Merlyn Wood]
I'll be in my bag, (excuse we) goin' in (let me 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'll be in my bag, (excuse we) goin' in (let me pass)
Smokin' all the grams in this bag, man, you isn't built for this, man
Run it like a gingerbread man, fuck that shit, stay hydrated nigga
I'ma let that bitch go home, 'cause 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 Lam', not the fuckin' wolf
Hoppin' out the van, I'm in 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 missing 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)

[Bridge: bearface]
With the dogs, in my ride, 'nother door, suicide
Paranoid, do or die, you should know, never lie
With the dogs, in my ride, 'nother door, suicide
Paranoid, do or die, you should know, never lie
Pull up with the racks to your shop
Pop em in, Cali and the 3 on dime
Zim zim zim zalla bim, get shot
One mill, two mill, three, that's a lot, damn

[Chorus: Joba]
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