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letra de different scales - mick jenkins

[intro]
yeah

[verse 1]
in pole position, had to strip it down
was rarely f-cking with the vision, they was feeding me the bread
well come eleven and the water only trickle down
needed pumpernickel, wasn’t f-cking with the fickle minds
this sh-t would get bumpy over time if we pickle beets
they just want the hooks, got me out here fighting sickle cell
n-ggas sound like crooks in front of cameras, i hear crickets now
have some art commissioned more than living off the ticket sales
you for the ‘gram, we weighing this sh-t on different scales
no picket fence, i know we grew up on different streets
it woke me up, i know it’s way more n-ggas counting sheep
bouncing checks, tryna slide off the counterfeit
they h-lla foul, n-ggas out here playing county ball
still bounty saul, shame they’ll never win a golden globe
some n-ggas only taking naps, some n-ggas comatose
you get ’em fired, you find out some n-ggas omaros—

[verse 2]
yeah, sosa been call this sh-t here the zoo
multiple elephants in the room, ain’t nothing new
poachers done settled in, they using sedatives, too
i’m still preaching the same element
exploring business ventures with my fellowship
eliminated the light bulbs with no filament
you ain’t in my circle if we not intimate on some level
got dumbbells on my shoulders, i folded
drinking folgers these days, i talk the water ’til my clothes is moldy
bodie broadus if came down to the wire, n-ggas couldn’t hold me
they always talk the old you, them n-ggas never know me
i never owe n0body nothing but john
who cutting onions? these days i’m all about cutting the line
cutting through the bullsh-t, my n-gga, it’s nothing to shine
it’s nothing to stunt, it’s nothing to rhyme
you elevating minds or you f-cking the blind and ducking the smoke?
sup with the swine but wanna be goat, you really just sheep
you wanna be woke, you really just sleep-
walked in front of me, man, what are these jokes?
rich in spirit, i won’ t hear it if you cunning me, bro
tried to p-ss these hoes the joint, they didn’t want any smoke
i wanna be blunt, when i spit out the truth
they want me to choke, they want me to front
ruffle feathers and they’ll want me to ghost
crumble concentrates, i’m rolling for real
sand trapping, i won’t shorten my stroke

- mick jenkins

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