The Trees lyrics

[Verse 1: Mick Jenkins]

The pink ring got a nigga feeling bossy

Spit it through the wire that's flossy

Dark car seats

Gotta get it it's critical fuck a critic

Approach is so analytical, sinning like fuck a cynic

My, nigga, we heavy on the grind

Burdens like boulders and sitting so heavy on my mind

Curdled my shoulders from sitting so heavy in this shine

Take them chains off

Take the pain off

Let the levees break

Let's piss Wayne off with the flow

Got a chainsaw for the tree and champagne flutes for the toast

It's a celebration

We no strangers to degradation

Whatever you do partake in, the answer is elevation

Don't get too high

People too dependent on luck

Get your house in order

We like two men and a truck

Its a movement

Gotta keep it strategic

Gotta push the margins

Keep your paper collegiate

Free Nation for life!

I took a pledge of allegiance

Gotta look out for snakes

It's like the garden of Eden, in my city fam!

Pretty lambs get played

Like pitty pat

Your hand look pretty whack, if you ain't jacking all trades!

They fade you out the back like bald fades

Your dog days be done

But 'til the fleas

Eat my knees

I'll be running with you

Breaking bread with my peoples

Cos' I want it with you

[Hook]

My nigga you see the trees

My nigga you see the leaves

Well homie, I see the roots

I'm only speaking the truth

And they hate that

And they hate that shit, my G!

[Verse 2: Mick Jenkins]

Youngin', been on his griggity-grind

Since nine-five

Skateboarding home from school

Cos' moms' work nine to five

And pops', 10-57

That's code

For missing persons

That's cold

But no-one's perfect

I fold

The bigger person

We cool

They lift the curtains just to see a young, black man

Blackjacking age

On the tracks

Stacking pages of that knowledge that they don't acknowledge

That's wiggity-whack, jack

Like aflac, I'm screaming at you

Why you niggas ducking out the way?

Probably cos' you ducking through your days!

Dodging bullets from your dogs

Just to run into some strays

Cos' them Ben Frankie Beverly's

Got you running through a maze

In a daze where these little niggas

Kill for the hell of it

Always down to ride for the little shit they' peddling

Hear the gun stutter like an ill speech impediment

Bet the verbs give your itch the chills

Chill, peep the rhetoric

Bet them curves have us rolling 'round

Chill, peep the medicine

That's exactly what they came for

Ginger ale and Marijuana

Nice conversations sipping Zinfandel from Carolina

Everything is thrifted

Playing pin the tail on my designer

It's 98!

Chill shit for my trill niggas

98

On my back I'm in this Hilfiger

Sealed liquor

Off in my truck im with the homies

Want no coppers catch me slippin'

On my pimpin'

I'm too ill nigga!

All you suckas just some lil' niggas!

[Outro]

This rap shit just an amalgamation of a Southside nigga

91st. 79. 63rd

Fuck with me Famo!

• Artist:Mick Jenkins
• Album:Trees & Truths (2013)