Jack Harlow - Come Home The Kids Miss You Lyrics
Talk Of The Town
That's right
That's right, that's right, uh
You know what I mean
A long way from Bardstown, I'm on the charts now
Used to have the same drive, you in park now
Whip got an upgrade, the tints dark now
The same ones that used to fade, I'm in they hearts now
Talk of the town, talk of the town
Now you gotta reach out to Chris to talk to me now
Ironic, how I'm who they missed, they target me now
Tryna be next to me, but I give 'em Destiny's Child
That's (no, no, no, no, no, no)
Am I the realest? (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Okay, I feel it
New levels, new devils, Dundee Way, I'm a rebel
Walkin' through my parent's house, forgot I had a Grammy medal
Old heads from the scene back then could tell that I was special
Young Jack, ain't no lookin' back, look where that could get you
Talk of the town, talk of the town
Now you gotta reach out to Chris to talk to me now
Ironic, how I'm who they missed, they target me now
Tryna be next to me, but I give 'em Destiny's Child
That's (no, no, no, no, no, no)
Am I the realest? (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Okay, I feel it
Writer: Angel Lopez, Calvin C. Gaines, Dawoyne Entre Lawson, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Mary Brown, Nickie Jon Pabon, Robert D. Fusari, Roget Lutfi Chahayed, Vincent J. Herbert
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Young Harleezy
Young Harleezy, y'all grew up shootin' RPGs
I was in the seventh grade sellin' hard CDs (that's true)
I was on stage, talent show, heart beatin'
Now I make it sound like I write the bars easy
But I'm ten years in, it took me eight to start eatin' (uh-huh)
Six to start drinkin', nine to give it up
Now the bottles in my section marked Fiji
And it's hard to find some girls that aren't freaky (mm-hmm)
The pressure keeps building but luckily, I'm built for it (tough)
Tryna turn these money trees to a lil' forest
It used to feel forced, now I got the feel for it
I know you wanna see me but I'm still tourin' (ah)
Used to be on Norris back when Twiggy was in chorus
Rockin' 990s, not Jordans
You can find my name beside "Smooth" in the thesaurus
I don't drink tequila, but for you I still p-
Oh, that's pimpin' right there
Ooh-wee
Droppin' leaves, drippin' honey on butterflies
Imagine that
Ayy, Jack
I mean, Mack
'Cause Jack is the Mack
And he's back, believe that
Ayy, this can't just be luck
It's a reason all this shit be goin' how it does
I ain't tryna hear about the past and what it was
I don't care who lookin', give you passion in the club
Who out here is passionate as us?
I'm the one they trust, we the ones that's makin' a big fuss
New school shit, I give you money for the bus
And a letter grade too, I'm thinkin' C+
And as for us, big A-listers
Pull up in that big shit, you know, the paint drippers
I got a baddie and another baddie came with her
It must be somethin' goin' on that's got my name slicker
'Cause it's rollin' off the tongue (tongue)
Summertime got these girls sprung
There was a time I wasn't the one
But now that shit's done, word to Nicki, all I got is sons
So come around and you could get somethin', for fun
Am I fancy enough? Am I dancing enough? (Ah)
Am I handsome enough? (Yes)
Tell me right now, so I can be enough
It can't just be us, sure enough, someone else sees what's what
I just wanna take you overseas, what's up?
I just wanna tell you it could be just us
Am I fancy enough? Am I dancing enough?
Am I handsome enough? Tell me right now, so I can be en-
I'm goin' back in, Weezy voice
You and me for her is one hell of a easy choice
I ain't know that she was such a freak 'cause she be coy
Trust me, where I'm sittin', I can't even see these boys
I ain't like that CD, boy, you better eat them Wheaties, boy
This is not Vanilla Ice or Beastie Boys
So much bread in my account, that shit is yeasty, boy
Snow bunnies for my dawgs, Happy Easter, boys
Said your boyfriend's a fan? Nice to meet you, boy
She a vegan, but she still try and eat ya boy
There comes a time where I reach a point where I gotta make a point
Please understand, I could take your joint (ah)
Heartthrob lifestyle, I could not fake it
Top spot in my sights, might gotta take it
How can I pretend like this life not amazin'?
Trust me, it's amazin', I can't believe I used to be debatin'
Am I fancy enough? Am I dancing enough? (Ah)
Am I handsome enough? (Yes)
Tell me right now, so I can be enough
It can't just be us, sure enough, someone else sees what's what
I just wanna take you overseas, what's up?
I just wanna tell you it could be just us
Am I fancy enough? Am I dancing enough?
Am I handsome enough? Tell me right now, so I can be en-
Writer: Dawoyne Entre Lawson, Douglas Ford, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jose Angel Velazquez, Nathan Harry II Ward, Roget Chahayed, Ryan Vojtesak
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Id Do Anything to Make You Smile
(Yeah, check me out)
(Wait)
I'd do anything to make you smile, bitch
Travel 'round the world and come back home and now my style switched
They say I get spicy when I step out, this ain't mild shit
I hit that last night and she already feel nostalgic
Five hunnid thousand
Just for me to hit my little dance, then I'm bouncin'
You know that the bread keep comin', Golden Corral, bitch
You know that the head keep comin' 'cause she's a down, ooh
Nice dress but your birthday suit's a better outfit
Mic check (can you hear me now 'cause I just doused it?)
I'm Jack but I came up with the f*ckin' fountain
My OG's move a mountain, I'm cuttin' up like Shaolin
I'm bouncin', I think I need some counseling
I'm bouncin', I think I need some (think I need some)
I'm bouncin', I think I need some counseling
I'm bouncin', I think I need some (I think I need some)
I'd do anything to make you smile, bitch
Travel 'round the world and come back home and now my style switched
They say I get spicy when I step out, this ain't mild shit
I hit that last night and she already feel nostalgic
Five hunnid thousand
Just for me to hit my little dance, then I'm bouncin'
You know that the bread keep comin', Golden Corral, bitch
You know that the head keep comin' 'cause she's a down
I'ma f*ck the earrings off of you
I'ma check my schedule and then clear it all for you
Look up at the ceilin', yeah, that mirrors all for you
Know I love them curves and how they veering off of you
I'ma grip that body, power steering off of you
You know you a star, that's why they cheerin' all for you
You my lil' muse, get these lyrics all for you
And then I sing 'em like an Ed Sheeran song to you
'Cause I love the shape of you, hmm, you, you, you
I mean the memory is nice but I would love a tape of you
You, you, you, you, you
I got so much that I wanna say to you
I'd do anything to make you smile
Take you to the Panama Canal
Hotels five star like they play for Coach Cal
But they call me Young Pitino 'cause I'm good in both towns
Writer: Bobby Kritikal, Charlie Handsome, Dawoyne Lawson, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jose Angel Velazquez, Matthew Jehu Samuels, Nickie Jon, Roget Chahayed
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Downtown Music Publishing
First Class
Mm
I been a (G), throw up the (L)
Sex in the (A-M), uh-huh
(O-R-O-U-S, yeah)
And I can put you in (first class, up in the sky)
I can put you in (first class, up in the, up-up in the)
I been a (G), throw up the (L)
Sex in the (A-M), uh-huh
(O-R-O-U-S, yeah)
And I can put you in (first class, up in the sky)
I can put you in (first class, up in the, up-up in the)
I can see the whole city from this balcony
Back in 2019, I was outside freely
But now they got it out for me
I don't care what frat that you was in
You can't alpha me, keep dreamin'
Pineapple juice, I give her sweet, sweet, sweet semen
I know what they like, so I just keep cheesin'
Hard drive full of heat seekin'
Tryna come the same day as Jack? Rethink it
You don't need Givenchy, you need Jesus
Why do y'all sleep on me? I need reasons
Uh, I got plaques in the mail, peak season
Shout out to my UPS workers makin' sure I receive 'em
You can do it too, believe it
I been a (G), throw up the (L)
Sex in the (A-M), uh-huh
(O-R-O-U-S, yeah)
And I can put you in (first class, up in the sky)
I can put you in (first class, up in the, up-up in the)
(Are you ready?) Huh, yes, I am
They say, "You a superstar now," damn, I guess I am
You might be the man, well, that's unless I am
Okay, I'll confess I am
Go ahead and get undressed, I am
Okay cool, you on Sunset? (I am)
I'm 'bout to slide, okay, I'm outside, okay
This lifestyle don't got many downsides
'Cept for the lack of time I get 'round my
Family, makin' sure they never downsize
I got visions of my mom sayin', "Wait, this house mine?"
Can't lie, I'm on Angus Cloud nine
I got 'em on the bandwagon now, 'bout time
I ain't even got no downtime
Every time I speak, she say, "Yeah, that sounds fine"
I been a (G), throw up the (L)
Sex in the (A-M), uh-huh
(O-R-O-U-S, yeah)
And I can put you in (first class, up in the sky)
I can put you in (first class, up in the, up-up in the)
I been a (G), throw up the (L)
Sex in the (A-M), uh-huh
(O-R-O-U-S, yeah)
And I can put you in (first class, up in the sky)
I can put you in (first class)
Writer: Christopher Brian Bridges, Douglas John Ford, Elvis L. Jr. Williams, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jamal F. Jones, Jasper Lee Harris, Jose Velazquez, Micaiah Abdul Raheem, Nickie Jon Pabon, Roget Lutfi Chahayed, Ryan Vojtesak, Stacy Ferguson, William Adams
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Dua Lipa
Rain, rain, rain, rain
I catch a groove like, uh-uh
Dua Lipa, I'm tryna do more with her than do a feature (do it)
I checked the web, they out here chewin' me up, f*ck it
Fadeaway, I lift that Luka knee up, bucket
I heard from someone you said you could be us, nothin'
You know my city like the new Korea, bustin'
All these discussions over who could see us, hush it
I sold them basements out, let's do arenas, crushin'
She lookin', I'm blushin', I'm lyin', I'm touchin'
Rain, rain, rain, rain
I need this shit to be tooken up, I got accustomed to it
F*ck a leap of faith, I took a jump just like it's nothin' to it
Girl, them Russian twists is workin', now just put your butt into it
All that talk, I'm cuttin' through it
I ain't no connoisseur, but I like this kind of store
I got nothin' to do with who the f*ck they think I'm screwin'
Uh, nine times out of ten I had 'em, then I blew it, but I need some
Dua Lipa, I'm tryna do more with her than do a feature (do it)
I checked the web, they out here chewin' me up, f*ck it
Fadeaway, I lift that Luka knee up, bucket
I heard from someone you said you could be us, nothin'
You know my city like the new Korea, bustin'
All these discussions over who could see us, hush it
I sold them basements out, let's do arenas, crushin'
She lookin', I'm blushin', I'm lyin', I'm touchin'
So why you being extra, huh? Being extra
She's a European and she know I'm seein' extra
Got a main character, but you could be an extra
Yes, sir, we the hottest out, used to be next up
Now I'm on some Ariana (ooh), thank you, next, bruh
Shorty came from Lexin', she flexed up
EJ turnt these motherf*ckin' pecs up
Need somethin', I hit my connects up
I get like three somethin' every time I dress up
I told Yeezus that I got a confession
We 'bout to be somethin', they gon' have to catch up
So what's up?
Dua Lipa, I'm tryna do more with her than do a feature (do it)
I checked the web, they out here chewin' me up, f*ck it
Fadeaway, I lift that Luka knee up, bucket
I heard from someone you said you could be us, nothin'
Writer: Dawoyne Lawson, Douglas Ford, Federico Vindver, Isaac De Boni, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jasper Harris, Jose Velazquez, Michael Mule, Nathan Ward, Nickie Jon Pabon, Roget Lutfi Chahayed
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Side Piece
Oh, I want you to know
To know that you are really special
Oh, I want you to know
To know that you are
I already got a song for my main chick
So let me do a record for my side piece
Let me do a record for my side piece
Let me do a record for my side piece, ayy
I need you beside me
Late night, girl, you know where to find me
DeJ Loaf, introduce you to the family
DeJ Loaf, introduce you to the family
Back when I was a young man (young man)
I liked them girls that was in that Abercrombie (I did)
I liked them girls that was in that Aeropostale (I did)
Now them same girls got coke in they nostrils
Somethin' done made the youth hostile (hostile)
Maybe it's the fuel from the fossils
All I know is that the future is gettin' colossal
This shit is gettin' colossal (Cole, you stupid)
Let me do a record for my side piece, ayy
Let me do a record for my side piece, ayy
Let me do a record for my (for my side piece)
I need you beside me (I do)
Late night, girl, you know where to find me
DeJ Loaf, introduce you to the family (to the family)
DeJ Loaf, introduce you to the family
I need somethin' besides the inside of these hotel rooms and lobbies
Maybe I should pick up a hobby
More like probably
More like Margot Robbie
Out in Abu Dhabi
And they dress in all white, oh, y'all must be feelin' godly
I call my pops and he let his son talk like Mavi, mmm
Walkin' through Argentina, the police stop me
Told me go home or somebody gon' rob me
Said we in the slums where they Shmurda like Bobby
I guess these earrings too gaudy
And these clothes fit a lil' perfect on my body
I don't need nobody searchin' for my body
Especially when I'm workin' on my body
And I already got a song for my main chick
But let me do a record for my side piece, ayy
Let me do a record for my side piece, right
Let me do a record for my side piece, ayy
I need you beside me
Late night, girl, you know where to find me
DeJ Loaf, introduce you to the family
DeJ Loaf, introduce you to the family
I want you to know
I want you to know
I want you to know
To know that you are really spe-
I want you to know
I want you to know
I want you to know
I want you to know
Baby, don't pretend like you don't want this, uh
Huh
She say, "You chat so much shit"
Baby, don't pretend like you don't want this
'Cause when I get back to the United Kingdom
You know you the one that I'm gon' f*ck with
I'ma have you cream filled on some donut shit
Okay, okay, let me chill on some grown-up shit
Hit tape, you the one I wanna show up with
Lookin' at me through the phone, baby, blow a kiss
Like Soulja Boy told you, soon I'ma hold you
But it's gon' be a minute though, I won't hold you
You can f*ck around while you wait, I won't scold you
Five hour difference, but you picked up when I called you
I think I'm booked for Wireless
And some other festival in Ireland
Life gettin' fast, I can feel my head spiralin'
If I'm not back soon, I might have to fly you in
Baby, is your passport valid?
Tell me, are you down for a challenge?
It don't matter to me if you vaxxed or not
Either you come to me or I come back to your block
I don't wanna get too excited
But if I called the jet, would you ride it?
Lay with me overseas, don't pack a bag, we can shop
Go Italy, let's have sex on a yacht
Writer: Calvin Broadus, Chad Hugo, Dawoyne Entre Lawson, Douglas John Ford, Ishmail Rasheed Wells, Jack Harlow, Jose Angel Velazquez, Kameron Cole, Marco Bernardis, Pharrell L. Williams, Roget Lutfi Chahayed, Tyler Joseph Acord
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Movie Star
And I know you just hate to see it
Can't imagine being you, ooh, I'd hate to be it
I'm done fakin' humble, actin' like I ain't conceited
'Cause, bitch, I am conceited
You know you can't defeat it
Your girl's a fan of me, in fact, I'm what her fantasy is
Duckin' out the party, we can't let the cameras see us
I'm with a movie star, ooh, young Cameron Diaz
I'm with a movie star, ooh, young Angelina
And I know they say all type of things about this type of life (huh)
Boy, ask yourself, are they right? (Right)
'Cause we can do this every night (uh-huh)
F*ck all the drama, try meet your mama
We don't need condoms, let's make a genre
Hot like a sauna, upgrade your Honda
Bae, quit that sobbin', I'll fix all your problems
What's wrong?
You never f*cked with someone who writes songs?
I won't use your name if you feel like it don't belong
But I'm just so inspired by the way you wear that thong
You know I like to dictate things, Kim Jong
I know that drink strong
You know we keep that bourbon out the barrel, Diddy Kong
Come here, give it to me while I play this Giveon
I keep givin' y'all classics
Tremendous, fantastic (fantastic)
My spendin' is drastic
She blend in the background and bend that shit backwards
Moncler just in case I end up in Aspen
Told the concierge, "Go 'head, send up the package"
That's the end of it, that's it
And I know they say all type of things about this type of life (huh)
Boy, ask yourself, are they right? (Right)
'Cause we can do this every night (uh-huh)
F*ck all the drama, try meet your mama
We don't need condoms, let's make a genre
Hot like a sauna, upgrade your Honda
Bae, quit that sobbin', I'll fix all your problems
Mmm, but do it jiggle though?
I mean, I get the concept that it's bigger though
I feel like the whole damn city know
You got it done just in time for the video, right?
You got some pretty toes (yeah)
And I'm pretty close to the top pretty soon
Somethin' not just anybody privy too
Somethin' not just anybody privy too
I do not f*ck with that stiff shit
Squad lift shit
I need that peanut butter, yeah, that Jif shit
You and me should do a tape, DatPiff shit
Now get this
I do not f*ck with that stiff shit
Squad lift shit
I need that peanut butter, yeah, that Jif shit
You and me should do a tape, DatPiff shit
Now get this
J-jiggle though
Writer: Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jose Angel Velazquez, Nathan Harry II Ward, Pharrell L. Williams, Roget Chahayed
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lil Secret
I know that you sick of bein' my lil' secret
I know that you sick of bein' my favorite
I know that you hate the fact that I'm famous
Hate the fact that you gotta wait, but you gon' wait
'Cause you confident that we soulmates
I told my therapist about you (you)
She always takes your side
Ain't nobody I love more, I just need more time
I know that you fantasize about sittin' next to me courtside
I know that your ex-man was no poor guy
In fact, he was one of them sports guys
Runnin' up and down the court guys
And y'all ain't date for no short time
But it's cool, though, we got more time
I don't never get sick of you
And that right there is a sure sign you're mine
I know that you sick of bein' my lil' secret
I know that you sick of bein' my favorite (favorite)
I know that you hate the fact that I'm famous
Hate the fact that you gotta wait, but you gon' wait (gon' wait)
'Cause you confident that we soulmates
I told my therapist about you (you)
She always takes your side
Ain't nobody I love more, I just need more time
Spendin' time with somebody else and I get to wishin' that she was you
Any girl can be beautiful, but not any girl can just be in tune
And you so in tune, you understand me
I make you laugh, and you say to me that you can't stand me
You soul food, and you eye candy, I wanna meet you in Miami
And I want you to meet my family and
I know that you sick of bein' my lil' secret
I know that you sick of bein' my favorite
I know that you hate the fact that I'm famous
Hate the fact that you gotta wait, but you gon' wait (gon' wait)
'Cause you confident that we soulmates (soulmates)
I told my therapist about you (you)
She always takes your side
Ain't nobody I love more, I just need more time
Writer: Charlene L Keys, Craig Xavier Brockman, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jose Velazquez, Nima Jahanbin, Nisan C Stewart, Paimon Jahanbin, Roget Chahayed
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
I Got A Shot
I got a shot, it's not a pistol
Number one spot, I'm too official
Name ringin' bells like school dismissal
She think I'm cold, I seen her nipples (seen 'em)
I got a shot, it's off the dribble
She brought a friend, I'm in the middle
This one right here ain't sentimental
But I know you remember, I know you remember
'Cause now I'm somebody you used to know
Hang at the places I used to go
Drivin' G-Wagen with Louis V bags
Mmm, you must be used to those
I got a shot, it's not a pistol
Number one spot, I'm too official
Name ringin' bells like school dismissal
But I know you remember, I know you remember
I'm from the city where they might put one in your temple
It's really that simple
24 karat the gold on the dental
That's just how they get down, it's just what they into
I'm eatin' wagyu with wooden utensils
I made a livin' off these instrumentals
She know me well and she know I ain't gentle
Show me that smile, I like them lil' dimples, yeah (uh-huh, uh-huh)
Tell you what I can do, yeah, I ain't just tryna befriend you, no, no
I get in your mental, yeah, touch you with spiritual Hindu, yeah (I'm touchin' you)
And I know you wanna be with me, baby, I miss you, yeah
And you know I wanna be with you, baby, I miss you, yeah
'Cause now I'm somebody you used to know
Hang at the places I used to go
Drivin' G-Wagen with Louis V bags
Mmm, you must be used to those
I got a shot, it's not a pistol
Number one spot, I'm too official
Name ringin' bells like school dismissal
But I know you remember, I know you remember
I know you see me 'cause everyone does
I kept it light on my last shit, okay, let's see what a heavy one does
Know they don't love me unless we in touch, it coulda been us
I was gon' take you up outta that lil' bitty town, but you just wasn't ready enough
And I'm gettin' fetti on fetti on fetti on fetti on fetti on fetti, what's up?
She got a mani' and pedi', but still bein' petty, like, "How did I f*ck this one up?"
Came a long way from Confetti, my pen a machete
The book bag is Louis, it used to be Eddie
I whip it, Andretti, I'm G-in' like Seddy
I look in they eyes and I know they ain't ready
'Cause now I'm somebody you used to know
Hang at the places I used to go
Drivin' G-Wagen with Louis V bags
Mmm, you must be used to those
I got a shot, it's not a pistol
Number one spot, I'm too official
Name ringin' bells like school dismissal
But I know you remember, I know you remember
Writer: Clayborn Harlow, Colin C. Franken, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jasper Harris, Jose Angel Velazquez, Luiz Bonfa, Matthew Jehu Samuels, Michael Hernandez, Nathan Harry II Ward, Nickie Jon Pabon, Roget Chahayed, Ryan Vojtesak, Tahj Morgan, Tobias Wincorn, Walter Andre E. De Backer
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Hipgnosis Songs Group
Churchill Downs
Sometimes when I sit back and really let it register
I did everything I said I would, and said it first
I mean the world's in denial, but they all know what I'm headed for (ha)
We 'bout to feed these youngin's to the metaverse
Meanwhile I'm over here just tryna pen a verse
'Cause I'm done bein' extra with the extroverts
The label used to wonder how I'm supposed to stand next to Vert
Prolly never thought that I would get these legs to work
I work hard, but hard shit don't need no extra work
That's why I show up in a sweatshirt and let it burn
The world's mine, I just say, "F*ck it, let it turn"
The girl's mine, I just say, "F*ck it, have a turn"
The G.O.A.Ts call me to the side like, "Can we have a word?"
I could've fronted but I did this shit how I preferred (I preferred)
Mmm
I know I should be humble, but it's somethin' I just haven't learned
Soon enough I'll have to make these bad habits burn
Soon enough we 'bout to come and get the shit we earn
You not a fan now
But I remember when you used to be fanned out
I guess that when the whole world loves you
People only got one way to stand out
All that time in the kitchen finally panned out
I put some flavor in a pot and took the bland out
I know my grandpa would have a heart attack if I pulled a hunnid grand out
So I'm not gonna pull a hunnid grand out
I'm hip hop, do you fully understand?
Fully automatic with the jams and they don't jam
At the shows I'm 'bout to start handin' out programs
'Cause y'all need to get with the program
I'm a grown ass man, call me pops
F*ck around and take your phone ass man
Everybody know Jack, but they don't know Jack, man
They just know I got the flows and the hoes and the packed out shows
Ain't too many cons when you playin' with the pros
'Cept for how your life get exposed
But I make that sacrifice for the life that I chose
I know in Toronto they got salt for the roads
But school's closed in Kentucky, so I like when it snowed
The kids carry chopsticks not for rice in the bowl
School counselors all know how they life is at home
Cold like the Minnesota Vikings at home
Before I met Drizzy I knew he and I would get along
But it's hard to crack jokes when you really want advice
I mean what's it like to touch gold every time you touch a mic
Touchin' heights, no one gets a touch in life?
F*ckin' right, young bachelor, what's a wife?
Once in a lifetime, 'til I say I want it twice
One of a kind, know your everythin' is one of mine
Wanted posters with my face, they know who I'm wanted by
Yeah
Yeah
Cold hearts and heated floors
No parental guidance I just see divorce
Therapy sessions, I'm in the waiting room, readin' Forbes
Abandonment issues I'm gettin' treated for
How much water can I fit under the bridge before it overflows?
My son's gotta learn that forgiveness is a lonely road
The cribs on his will like motor homes
Niggas love to try and test us like they know what we on
Chubb's got the magazine covered like Rolling Stone
'Cause we already know how they rock, they throwin' stones
Whenever you gettin' bigger, there's growin' pains
I got enough pull to make the city start throwin' games
I'm out here makin' a mockery
I got my realtor out here playin' Monopoly
How can I address you when you don't own property?
They only finesse you when you don't move properly
Destined for the win, but you don't get a prize out of me
I'm destined for the top, but you can't get a rise out of me
Seven-fifty for the round, canaries, and they glitterin'
Man, you niggas drop trash, you littering
I'm overdelivering to the point, it's belittling
I mean, the PTSD is triggerin', the profit is sickenin'
The stones is shimmerin', came from the north
But I got hot as f*ck, so ain't no shiverin', yeah
Lucky me, people that don't f*ck with me
Are linkin' up with people that don't f*ck with me to f*ck with me
This shit is gettin' ugly
And every situation is transactional
And every thing they sayin' is irrational
And every way they movin' is promotional
Everybody's actin' irreplaceable, it's like they ain't disposable
My urges for revenge are uncontrollable
I know we're gettin' older though
Yeah
But I gotta get a nigga back for that, It's non-negotiable
It's not even debatable
I'm gettin' so rich, my music's not even relatable
I blow a head up, it's an inflatable
Baby blue G class, I feel like a kid again
Prayin' on my downfall don't make you religious, man
All I hear is plug talk comin' from middlemen
All I hear is tall tales comin' from little men
When I say "Bitch", I'm very rarely referring to women
Most of the bitches I know are niggas, they not even women
I know that sounds like I'm being funny, I'm not even kidding
Same ones that say they run the game when they not even in it
To be honest, y'all financial situations my biggest motivation
And how you should take that statement is based on what you makin'
Whips and chains like a dominatrix
If I see ya, I'll spit in ya faces
Daytonas with the green faces
Kentucky Derby races, my presence in the spot is so abrasive
Boxed at the Churchill Downs, that's motivation
Yeah
And shorty like, "You know that boy Jack is goin' places"
I know
Yeah
Writer: Alexander Charles Ernewein, Aubrey Drake Graham, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jose Velazquez, Matthew Jehu Samuels, Roget Lutfi Chahayed, Ryan Bakalarczyk, Tahrence Brown
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Like a Blade of Grass
Like a blade of grass wants sunlight, I just want that ass
You type of girl I would've flirted with in class
Copied every test, be the reason that I passed
I know we could have a blast
We could have a kid, am I movin' too fast?
Know I'm not your first, but I could be your last
You can't even get gas without bein' harrassed, mmm
Some of these girls in the mix more than engineers
But I think you'd rather disappear
You don't know where you gon' end up, but you know it probably isn't here
I gotta put you in a different tier
IG private, spend her own money on the whip that she drivin'
Thick thighs and I can tell it's warm, baby, can I please dive in?
In her prime, she's thrivin' (she's thrivin')
Met you in the dark, tryna put that light on you
Could buy you anythin', let me spend some time on you
'Cause I want to, mm ('cause I want to)
"I think I want you too, I think I want you too"
"I think I want you too
Truthfully, I only give it up to very few
Truthfully, my body count is low, it's only two
I know that you probably don't believe me, but it's true
Had a boyfriend I dated for like five years in school
Then another one I dated for like two
'Til he moved, since then, I been cool
Focused on myself, what 'bout you?"
I mean, shit, I been chillin'
We just got off tour and we sold out every building
"You probably had hella bitches on you", not really
"Boy, stop lyin', you silly"
Anyway, when you free? I'm down to take you out, any day
Gotta duck the cameras, they gon' treat us like we Kim and Ye
I ain't tryna keep you low, but this is high stakes
Life like this sure is sweet, tell me how it taste, taste, taste, taste
Met you in the dark, tryna put that light on you
Could buy you anythin', let me spend some time on you
'Cause I want to, mmm ('cause I want to)
"I think I want you too, I think I want you too"
Writer: Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jasper Harris, Jose Angel Velazquez, Nathan Harry II Ward, Nickie Jon Pabon, Nima Jahanbin, Paimon Jahanbin, Roget Lutfi Chahayed
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Parent Trap
Looking 'round, it's hard to believe where I'm at
Everywhere I look, somebody starin' back, yeah
Paranoid, even out in paradise
Terrified to see my parents pass
Red carpet in some dress shoes
And a pair of slacks
I think I might be gettin' sick of wearin' that
I need some peace and the 'burbs might be where it's at
You know like where them Karens like to run they errands at
I'm on a journey, man, Jarrett Jack
Got my twin with me like The Parent Trap, there and back
Serenade 'em with the clarinet
I got the tea and I ain't sharin' that
Who the fairest of 'em all? Shawty's been declarin' Jack
Fellas hatin', I don't blame 'em, I mean how unfair is that?
The top is where they like to see you get embarrassed at
'Specially when you charismatic and the coppas wear Hermès
All these airplanes and these checked bags
All these rumors and these unchecked facts
Old friends I forget to text back
Maybe this'll show where my heads at, my bad (you know)
Every sky can't be blue
It's hard to see it when you're walkin' in the gray
So many flights, look at how the time flew
So many things that I never got to
Good days, bad days, red lights, fast lanes
Would you never change? Would you be the same?
Just tell me one thing that's true when I ain't up
You hold me down
You hold me down (hold me)
Say you'll hold me down
Hold me down
(Hold me down)
You know the squares hate the prom king
You know they prayin' that I say the wrong thing
Look at the disdain that these hit songs bring, huh
I mean I could've kept it niche
But I rather my brothers get rich
Hit the kill switch, hit the slugger field first pitch
Seven-figure brand deals tend to feel worthless
All these airplanes and these checked bags
All these rumors and these unchecked facts
Old friends I forget to text back
Maybe this'll show where my heads at, my bad (you know)
Every sky can't be blue
It's hard to see it when you're walkin' in the gray
So many flights, look at how the time flew
So many things that I never got to
Good days, bad days, red lights, fast lanes
Would you never change? Would you be the same?
Just tell me one thing that's true when I ain't up
You hold me down (right, right)
You hold me down (hold me, right, right)
Say you'll hold me down
Hold me down
(Hold me down)
La, la-la-la, la-la
La, la-la-la, la-la
La, la-la-la, la-la
La, la-la-la, la-la
(Hold me down)
(Hold me down)
Writer: Dawoyne Lawson, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jose Velazquez, Justin Timberlake, Michael Washington, Nima Jahanbin, Paimon Jahanbin, Roget Lutfi Chahayed, Timothy Z. Mosley
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Anthem Entertainment, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Poison
Can you decide?
Can you decide?
Oh
(New music)
Listen to 'em, but you never trust 'em
Entertain 'em, but you never f*ck 'em
You went and got that wax for nothin'
Enjoyin' the attention, but don't need a husband
But maybe someone
It's been too many nights since you had a fun one
You got a comfort zone you tryna run from
They call you quiet, but they don't know where you come from
Ooh, ooh, ooh, you got so much poise
In a room full of people makin' so much noise
I wanna bring you 'round my boys, I wanna listen to your voice
I wanna treat you to some things that you'd enjoy
Don't be anxious, I got you
Yeah, they fine, but they not you
You a catch and I caught you
I wanna pull up and flaunt you and take some pics for Getty Images
I like all your beauty marks and blemishes
Girl, you're poison, poison, poison, poison
But the good kind
It's crazy how you're on my mind
Kind of crazy how you're on my mind
Girl, you're poison, poison, poison, poison
But the good kind
It's crazy how you're on my mind
Kind of crazy how you're on my mind
That girl is poison, poisonous, cyanide, arsenic
Shorty sick, shorty on fire, I'm the arsonist
I might have to jack your bitch 'cause I be on my Harlow shit
Styrofoam cup, stackin' 'em, inside, I put the poison in
Poison, feel like I been poisoned
I'm still on my shit, but that lil' dude you with a toilet
Tunechi, bitch, I'm gnarly
Girl, you could pick your poison like fruit up in the garden
I'm Ewing in the Garden, that girl is poison
Po-po-po-po-po
Ass clappin' like blooka-blooka-blooka-blooka-blook
Yeah, I eat so much shrimp, I got iodine poisonin'
She eat so much dick, she say, "Slime, I'm starvin'"
I'm a feast, dessert, and dinner
Told her I'ma make her skeet and squirt that venom
Got some Scarlett Johansson, whip it to a black widow
Lil Tune', I been immune to these hoes
I'm vaxxed, nigga, stop playin'
Girl, you're poison, poison, poison, poison
But the good kind
It's crazy how you're on my mind
Kind of crazy how you're on my mind
Girl, you're poison, poison, poison, poison
But the good kind
It's crazy how you're on my mind
Kind of crazy how you're on my mind
You can hardly fit them denims
Back pockets gon' bust open if you put somethin' in 'em
Older women see that body and that shit offend 'em
Ice in my veins, but you just added some venom
What's the point of slowin' down? We got momentum
You had a man that had a plan, but he ain't have it in him
My homie said he f*cks with your big sis, I'm tryna twin 'em
The opps want an olive branch, but we don't extend 'em
Now we ain't got shit to give 'em, okay, I found my rhythm
They be like, "Jack go get 'em," okay, I'm 'bout to get 'em
My haters keep on talkin', but these lyrics gon' outlive 'em
I need MTV Cribs back
I'd bring 'em to my city just to show 'em how I'm livin'
And you the type of girl I wanna bring to Thanksgiving
But that's a given, that's a given
Writer: Bernard Freeman, Chad Butler, Douglas Ford, Elliott Straite, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jasper Harris, John Mayer, Jordan Houston, Jose Valesquez, Khristopher Van Riddick-Tynes, Leon Thomas, Nathan Ward, Ozan Yildirim, Paul Beauregard, Roget Chahayed, Ryan Vojtesak, Tyree Simmons
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Royalty Network, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Songtrust Ave, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
NAIL TECH
Mm-mm, mm, mm-mm
Tss
My nail tech knows how to keep a lil' secret
I don't wish for my success, I speak it
I caught a buzz, and you did too, but you tweakin'
I look like I been gettin' money, I reek it
You smell me, that's LV
Walkin' 'round with my chest out and my skin smooth, I'm healthy
I'm in the mix and I'm handshakin', but most of y'all can't help me (nah)
Most of y'all ain't wealthy (nope), most of y'all just dress like it
I caught the vibe that y'all givin' off and I'm tryna make myself less like it
This chick got a lil' Porsche body, I might let the bro test-drive it
It's hard for me to get excited, I love music and stress 'bout it
My city haulin', I'm cosignin' this wave, comin' up next out it
Ridin' 'round in the shotgun in her Tesla
Hangin' both of my legs out it, like "What's up?" (What's up?)
I got stakes and they too high now, I can't f*ck up (can't f*ck up)
I like girls that's down to earth, so don't be stuck up (stuck up)
I don't take L's, I give 'em out and I chuck 'em up
First listen they hearin' this shit, like, "What the f*ck?"
Ten toes, that's my MO
Fam over 'Gram, that's my MO (on my mama)
F*ck a close friends, I got friends that I keep close
And they let it go while I reload
Like baow, baow, baow
TSA just opened my book bag up
And my chain hittin' like
Baow, baow, baow, baow
The king's back in his hometown
When them wheels hit and I touch down they
Baow, baow, baow, baow
She down low, three point stance
I'm back there doin' Jack dance like
Baow, baow, baow, baow
And I'm not no fashionista, but I'm fly though (but I'm fly)
And I know I gave up drinkin', but I'm high though (but I'm high)
I told her, "I don't cum from head, but you can try though" (you can try)
I'm not on top of this shit yet, but I'm that guy though
I take a look 'round at my comp and it's just, uh (ooh)
Wide open, big whippin', it slide open (mm-mm)
I notice they treat me like I'm chosen (I'm chosen)
Eyes open, heart clean and my mind focused
This shit just keeps goin' how I wrote it
How the hell could you doubt us?
I mean, back then, it made sense, but it's like, now what?
Now they down to come 'round just to be 'round us
You ain't one of my dawgs, why do you hound us?
It's very few of you I like
But it's a whole lot of y'all I don't trust
'Cause ten toes, that's my MO
Fam over 'Gram, that's my MO
F*ck a close friends, I got friends that I keep close
And they let it go while I reload
Like baow, baow, baow
TSA just opened my book bag up
And my chain hittin' like
Baow, baow, baow, baow
The king's back in his hometown
When them wheels hit and I touch down they
Baow, baow, baow, baow
She down low, three point stance
I'm back there doin' Jack dance like
Baow, baow, baow, baow
Writer: Amir Sims, Douglas Ford, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jahaan Akil Sweet, Jose Velazquez, Matthew Jehu Samuels, Montez Dewayne Jones, Roget Lutfi Chahayed, Scotty Lavell Coleman
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
State Fair
My pet peeve is a camera in my face
Have you ever heard of personal space?
I walk around town in a hoodie and some shades
But now they startin' to recognize the shades
Even if you hate me, you would trade
You would live this life too 'cause I got it made
I like my bed made, soon enough, I'll have a maid
When I buy a house, every surface gon' be suede
But for now, I got a concierge downstairs
All my neighbors are gray-haired
They don't recognize me and I don't think they care
But my Postmates can't believe that I stay here (f*ck)
I wanna go back to Kentucky and shut down the state fair
Visit my old teachers and tell 'em to take care
I might take a whip instead of payin' the plane fare
I still remember the way there
Ain't a girl in my hometown I can't have now
Buy a building in cash, ain't puttin' half down
The hate used to get to me, I just laugh now
Yeah, they f*ckin' with Jack now
Look how they act now
Look how they act now
Look how they act now
Look how they act now
They f*ckin' with Jack now, they f*ckin' with
Mmm, pshh
Baby, I'm comin' home, I know the kids miss me
I need some time with my friends to sip whiskey
I spent the last twelve months locked in
But tonight, I'm content with existing
2015, we was on that Pen Griffey
I wanted what he had, but the shoes didn't fit me
Now the city with me and I got the kids listenin'
And I'm a smooth operator by instinct
Word to Sade, walkin' 'round broad day
Like hey, with the windows down, I'm on Broadway
And it was just a day ago, I was in Daygo like the damn Padres
Now I'm at my grandparents' lettin' my grandpa say
What he wants to say
'Cause nowadays, I'm in the paper once a day
And it ain't always positive, it's a bunch of things
But f*ck it, man, I done graduated from younger days
And if I ain't runnin' things, soon, I'll be runnin' things
I'm an artist, man, you just make fun of things
I'm the hardest, man, y'all don't know what to say
This album's a museum, so please don't touch a thing
It's okay to give me props, don't make it such a pain
It's okay to give me top, don't make it such a thing
Don't get offended if we met and I say, "What's your name?"
I been flyin' 'round the country for three hundred days
But I ain't 'bout to justify how I adjust to fame
F*ck the fame, from the jump, we ain't been cut the same
I got so much, but I still think about what's unobtained
Never been the type for wantin' things
I want power (I want power)
I want my life to speed up a couple miles per hour
I want my dawgs to know that this shit is ours
I want respect, I don't want flowers
I know they gon' quote this
The flow don't make no sense, the pocket is potent
It used to be potential, but now it's some grown shit
Damn, that boy floatin', he treat them beats like they oceans
All these people wanna greet like we old friends
I ain't holdin' back, tell the media, "Hold this"
I know I said I miss you, but I secretly don't miss
I got stories and I'm bringin' 'em home with me
(Gangsta)
Writer: Darryl Lorenzo Clemons, Jackman Thomas Harlow, Jose Angel Velazquez, Nathan Harry II Ward, Roget Lutfi Chahayed
Copyright: Lyrics © CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.