More songs by corto.alto
More songs by Mick Jenkins
Description
Producer: Liam Shortall
Mixing Engineer, Mastering Engineer: Paulo Germano
Composer: Liam Shortall
Lyricist: Mick Jenkins
Lyrics and translation
Original
New phone, who dis?
New phone, who dis?
Too much hubris was feeling myself, dark room, too lit.
In here just tryna develop my negatives, who took the pic?
Mm, I checked the film, it's legit. Mm, dropped in the kiln, I was clay.
You know I can't forget who did the fit. I think that I just been in my own way.
Remember I paid and I played and I missed. Remember I strayed. Remember my denim was tattered and frayed.
I prayed he lifted me. Made niggas throw out the script. Made niggas question directions.
We weak in the flesh, but we go off the strength of spirit.
Niggas is weapons, I reckon. I told them some BS, you know it as soon as you hear it.
White tee at 3A don't do nothing small. Pacing myself. I got it right now, I'm pacing what's left.
I got no problem retracing my steps. Don't want no followers, ancient myself.
New phone, who dis?
Got it like that. Took it for a spin, then brought it right back. Been tryna tell you
I did it myself. You ain't gotta wonder if I bought it like that. Order my steps.
And I got the footage, camcorder my flow.
I was Cuba Gooding, we was boys in the hood. Can't coulda, woulda, shoulda, niggas already know.
Praise God that we grown, but we gotta move on. Some folks still doubting the big man.
Some folks still doubting the big hand. Some folks moved back with the pig Latin.
I was first touchdown, no pigskin. Nigga tried to reach back, they was bitchin'.
See how it play out with the friction. I'ma count you out, no audition.
I'm cooking, stay out the kitchen.
New phone, who dis?