Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Mic Jack’ by Adam Levine. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Adam Levine or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Niggas still ain’t fuckin’ with Hollywood Court
‘Cause they fuckin’ wit’ ya boi like the Hollywood dough
Everything big, no comin’ up short
Jack the buzzer beater up, all net, half court
The game winning shot, your name sayin’, not
That same skinny thot you got, she be in and out
She never spit it out either, we call her Poke-mouth
Big mouth bass, start to smash that ass
I build a bear before I build a bitch
I take her to the mall and fill her with the sugar dick
With the same lips give a nigga sugar whits
Give me brain, so intelligent with plenty sense
I took her innocence, yeah she was turnt out
And by the time I gave her back she was burnt out
Like the tires on the Huracan, you ain’t good Antwan
Or better yet, stay great, we stay puttin’ on
You’re hotter than July (super hot)
Super colder than December (so cold)
You got me dancin’
The dancefloor tells no lies (tells no lies)
Give them something to remember
You got me dancin’
Please don’t stop movin’ your feet
While the music’s hot on that ecstacy
We can dance all night, till we both get weak
Come on, come on
Stayin’ fresh that’s the gameplan
Out the oven ’cause we never microwavin’
We break it up like the smile of Michael Strahan
And keep shinin’ like the glove on Michael J hand
I do not play man, sure I’ll eat your ass up quick
I’m on that boss rap shit, they on that toss salad
Old chick, I sees ya nigga and I delete her
I used to have a bench full of bitches but didn’t need ’em
But still fill arenas and killin’ the coliseum
ATLiens, they on top of ya human beings
From the mothership, I’m on some other shit
Lowkey like the blow soul back in ’86
But we don’t sell dope, we pimp ink pens
To provoke the folks and keep ’em thinkin’
What is you drinkin’, or better yet
Do you really know the meaning of life or are you sleeping, sleeping, sleeping
Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping
You’re hotter than July (super hot)
Super colder than December (so cold)
You got me dancin’
The dancefloor tells no lies (tells no lies)
Give them something to remember
You got me dancin’
You’re hotter than July (super hot)
Super colder than December (so cold)
You got me dancin’
The dancefloor tells no lies (tells no lies)
Give them something to remember
You got me dancin’
Please don’t stop movin’ your feet (please don’t stop)
You got me dancin’
We can dance all night, till we both get weak, come on (please don’t stop)
You got me dancin’
Morning, we don’t stop till the morning
We don’t stop, keep it going
We gonna see it through
And the rest is up to you