Jackman.

Jack Harlow

Common Ground

They Don't Love It

Ambitious

Is That Ight?

Gang Gang Gang

Denver

No Enhancers

It Can't Be

Blame On Me

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Jackman Thomas Harlow

Composer Lyricist

Jose Velazquez

Michael Washington

Emanuel Wells Officer

Joi M. Marshall

Reed Dieyelle A

Aniko Thomas

Tonya Kelly

Jay Soul

Alvin R

Will I see you?
Just talkin′ 'bout what I see
It′s not opinion based, it's just, just shit I see

The suburbs are filled with ebonics and trap sonics
Frat boys saying "no cap, put racks on it"
The dialect got a lil' splash of some black on it
Cap and gowns bought by the money in dad′s pockets
White girls squattin′, tryna get that ass poppin'
Caught back talking to their mom and dad′s often
Reciting rap lyrics about murder and cash profit
Get to feel like a thug but don't have to act on it

Local homicide rates got ′em astonished
Reading 'bout it on a laptop in pajamas
Microsoft Office to complete their assignments
Never seen the hood still can′t help but have comments
Never had a convo' with a kid from that climate
That really has trauma, that really got taught to survive by any means
Fuck bitches, stack commas
Common ground ain't that common

The festivals are filled with Larry Bird jerseys
College students in a hurry to jump to a four-count and say the "n word"
Business interns taking molly then percs
Trampling on top of bodies in dirt
Condescending suburban kids growing up to be rap journalists
Writing urban myths about who they think is the best urban kid
And who the worst is and who′s authentic
And what the real hip hop is, and who′s all in it

Thrift shopping for articles and garments that feel like they came from a foreign environment
Second hand Bape Supreme and Gallery Department
Anything to feel less harmless
Adderall dealers, carrying round guns just to make it feel realer
House with white pillars
No rough just diamonds
The education private, it's all by design and
Common ground ain′t that common

Hip Hop/Rap

It's not opinion based, it's just, just shit I see

intro

The suburbs are filled with ebonics and trap sonics

Frat boys saying "no cap, put racks on it"

The dialect got a lil' splash of some black on it

Cap and gowns bought by the money in dad's pockets

White girls squattin', tryna get that ass poppin'

Caught back talking to their mom and dad's often

Reciting rap lyrics about murder and cash profit

Get to feel like a thug but don't have to act on it

verse

Microsoft Office to complete their assignments

Never seen the hood still can't help but have comments

Never had a convo' with a kid from that climate

That really has trauma, that really got taught to survive by any means

The festivals are filled with Larry Bird jerseys

College students in a hurry to jump to a four-count and say the "n word"

Condescending suburban kids growing up to be rap journalists

Writing urban myths about who they think is the best urban kid

And what the real hip hop is, and who's all in it

Thrift shopping for articles and garments that feel like they came from a foreign environment

Second hand Bape Supreme and Gallery Department

Adderall dealers, carrying round guns just to make it feel realer

The education private, it's all by design and

Jackman. • 2023

Common Ground

Jack Harlow

Lyrics of Common Ground by Jack Harlow

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