Mick Jenkins - Jerome

[Intro: Sample]

"Get on your feet and testify

Lift your voice up to the sky"

[Refrain 1: Kirk Knight]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, get the—get the—

Yeah, yeah, yeah, get the—

Yeah, yeah, yeah, get the—

[Verse 1: Mick Jenkins]

Put your motherfuckin’ hands in the air

Or you gon’ need a halo, I’m a mothafuckin’ slayer

This ain’t no game, I’m not no player

Nigga trying to find his way and then he bringing pain, you better know we major

I’m on this water heavy, what’s a little gold and a pager?

Wrestle with these words a young Mick Foley, all I see is AC Slater

These niggas jaded, ‘bout to set it off, I feel like Jada

Still on the block it feel like Jenga how it tumble down

Hands shaking like a Rumble pack, are we humble now?

Buzzing, how we bumble now?

Leaving niggas puzzled, do the right thing and they're buggin’ out

Know the Free don't stop for nothing

Tell ‘em niggas stop the frontin’

Roll in front, so if you ever see teardrop, you better know we choppin’ onions

I’m spitting yellow bricks, we rarely stop for munchkins

That’s why I do not fuck with customs

I’m unaccustomed to these costumes

Know that if you cross the free, it just might cost you

I’m not a doctor or Kevin Costner

The way I’m dancing with these wolves, I pray I never lost a step

I keep it steppin’ nigga; that’s a bet

[Refrain 2: The Notorious B.I.G.]

Relax and take notes, while I take tokes of the marijuana smoke

Relax and take notes, relax and take notes, notes, notes, notes

[Hook: Mick Jenkins]

Put your motherfuckin’ hands in the air

And wave them like you just don’t care

I’m just showin’ love to my mothafuckin’ people

You can tell your mans we ain’t going nowhere

Now keep your hands in the motherfuckin' air

And wave them like you just don’t care

I’m just showin’ love to my mothafuckin’ people

You can tell your mans we ain’t going nowhere

[Refrain 1: Kirk Knight]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, get the—get the—

Yeah, yeah, yeah, get the—

Yeah, yeah, yeah, get the—

[Verse 2: Mick Jenkins]

Jerome in the mothafuckin’ house now

Leather loafer steppin’, niggas better watch they mouth now

Leaving loaded lessons, pray for blessings when the doubts ‘round

Thousand Island stretchin’, I ain’t stressin’ no salad

I’m in this water where the sharks be, coming for the same place your thoughts be

Artsy, dirty mouth, I never do the flossing

Hardly, stuntin’ on the niggas that’s frontin’

I know they do not want it, I run over niggas, that’s punnin'

No, I ain’t trying to kick it, I’m cookin’ no bun in the oven

I need it on the stove, push it to the people off a cottage grove

Pot of gold, flooded more than Hollygrove

Mothafuck a Hollywood, never take a holiday, I’m spotting foes

Everywhere, know that I get very rare

Faced the God, what’s up Based God? I’m pacing hot

Tracing opps, know your enemy, control your energy

Don’t slip with niggas that pretend to be, only kin of me

Can call me blood, even a friendly can see the love

We do it for the free and keep it up

Tell your niggas they can keep the hate

Tell my friends I appreciate, the value never depreciate

[Refrain 3: Joey Bada$$]

This for my niggas, who be chillin’ with them killers in the wild

We gettin’ high ‘til we bug the fuck out

It’s been a minute, I’ve been chillin’ on the pile

Right, right, and to my crooks

From Chi-town all the way to Flatbush

We get wild if you give us that look

Hit you with the follow up and the right hook

Right, right

[Verse 3: Joey Bada$$]

Put your fucking hands up in the air

Or you gon' have to lay low when I motherfucking spray ya

This ain’t no game like Sega, don’t be a hero

I’m with my good fellas and we ‘bout to Rob DiNero

Give me the pesos, give me the Euros, give me the dollars

Give me the say so if these niggas want the drama

If I call my partners up, body bags is popping up

Keep popping shit, we pop the trunk, make you niggas popular

Hit him between his oculars, what the fuck is popping, cuz?

Super Saiyan like I opened 47 chakras up

Pussy hoes we knocking up, these flows keep stocking up

As long as I’m rhyming, I'm Ben Wallace on your wallets, uh

My true shottas go blocka, blocka

Soul shocking with the fire, probably light your block up

Stop your blood clot crying, the pussy boy there dying

It’s a cold, cold world, I think these niggas need the iron

Like, "Blaow"

[Bridge: Joey Bada$$]

How you like me now?

It's the motherfucking Brooklyn king of them now

Niggas jocking my style, I been all on the road

I been checking out the shows, I been fucking your hoes, like blap

How you like me now?

It's the motherfucking Brooklyn king of them now

Niggas biting my style, I been all on the road

I been checking out the shows, I been fucking your hoes

[Refrain 3: Joey Bada$$]

This for my niggas, who be chillin’ with them killers in the wild

We gettin’ high ‘til we bug the fuck out

It’s been a minute, I’ve been chillin’ on the pile

Right, right, and to my crooks

From Chi-town all the way to Flatbush

We get wild if you give us that look

Hit you with the follow up and the right hook

Right, right