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nuthin' but a... - last jazz club lyrics

last jazz club ft. dialate * “nuthin’ but a…”
[emcee(s): dialate and veks]
[producer(s): mike b]
[scratches: mike b]

[hook 1: sample with scratches mike b]
“ill type flows” (x2)

[interlude: veks and dialate]
veks: my man dialate
dialate: yeah
veks: yo, son. yo, i’m trying to find my way out

[verse 1: dialate]
oh my god
just trying to find a way out too, now with stars
i’ma catch you in the mix, still been paying my dues
laid up, pour a 40 for you missing the truth
no way i’ve made it—story of my life
don’t act like it’s something ‘til the feeling’s just right, and, still, i
can’t decide ‘til i hear you say
the feeling is mutual. everything, we do the same through
the pain, i don’t think about it. lately, i go
to sleep and remain as the one whose weekends has changed and wants you
to know that i’ma be about it. regardless what’s
happening, it’s all i got and, god forbid, i start lacking. i’m on
for life, get to know me, might hear me say
something you can’t relate to, it’s nothing i can’t explain. at night
things calm down, but we stay sane, lift
you up, i forever remain (yeah, yeah, don’t ever change)

[hook 2: veks]
it’s like
this and like that and like this and*a it’s like
that and like this and like that and*a it’s like
this, and who gives a f*ck about them? so just
chill to these ill type flows

[hook 1: sample with scratches mike b]
“ill type flows” (x2)

[verse 2: veks]
i’m feeling
ill—in this case, i mean terminally
or at least it’s how cats i hear referring to me. i’m learning
to be, of course, the most deserving emcee, but as
a poet, it feels like i’m deserted at sea. say
no motherf*ckers harder than me. probably heard and believed
but didn’t know the cat that murdered the beat, so i
turn to the street to put the word out casually
the people asking me if all my flows come naturally
that’s blasphemy. of course it does actually
does it match the beat? as long as it does fashionably
i’m happy to see you rapping with me
some of y’all probably wondered what happened to me
life gets ill, somewhat like a tragedy, b
certainly having to flee to an academy seat ‘cause it’s
like a show and, obviously, they added a fee. i know
that, at times, we all feel like we’re at a defeat. just try
and get my ass out of this seat. lawn hills deep
so mike b sent me this ill beat

[hook 2: veks] (x2)
it’s like
this and like that and like this and*a it’s like
that and like this and like that and*a it’s like
this, and who gives a f*ck about them? so just
chill to these ill type flows

[hook 1: sample with scratches mike b]
“ill type flows”

- last jazz club lyrics

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