Niccolò - Jonathan Emile

Niccolò, Niccolò

Last night I dreamt of the sounds of a piccolo in a Firenze piazza with all my

fratelli

Tell me… why they Jelly?

I’m killing them softly

Sipping Tignanello

Tutto è bello

Niccolò, Niccolò

I do what I got to do

Niccolò, Niccolò

Autotune the dissonance

Black militants ain’t shootin'

Some looting cause they hungry in this game no scrimmage

Image awards with no substance

Black rappers lust for white privilege

Look in the mirror

Tone deaf Pitchfork era

Hipsters like they ancestors pillage our culture

Bald eagle that’s cousin of vulture

If you felt insulted then I meant to insult you word

Ask me «where I Bin?»

like Afghanistan

Jon E dep in the cut with the scissor hands

I’m the same old dude but with rubber bands

Shit poppin like soda can

And even if you fly, you still gotta land

They still asking why they don’t understand

I making money I’m done making promises

Yo I’m on a different plane like I’m fucking with Amishes

Master my vocals or master the game

Take an apprentice teach em how to laugh at the fame

During cancer I guess I learned to master the pain

I master my image and destiny like a platonic cave

Master before I doctor black like bubonic

Plague

With ibonics I slay

With No sonic delay

Pay attention is it’s free like

Like the soul of a slave

Write a refrain and write and refrain from sprinting in this marathon

Give a fuck about paragon — babylon babble on

Collaborator player hater

I’m focused like DOP

In this music industry oligarchy

I’d never stop the next man’s stride

Put that on the the cemetery

Making moves still feeling sedentary

I got bars like a mafioso that never flipped on his homies homey get to know me

know me

That clean money that lean money

Hella nice tho out for mean money

Man you know how Jamaicans be

When we bad we bad

When we good we irie

I and I like visine

My music crack like the space between

Let the it sink in like the road implode

Now you know my area code