At an early age, Jenkins’ mother introduced him to contemporary soul greats such as Prince, Erykah Badu, Sade and Jill Scott, thus promoting her son’s musical sensibility. The young artist was charmed by the emotions carried out in this musical genre and later found hip-hop music to be another effective vehicle for these same feelings due its lyrical richness. As he grew older, his passion for music developed into an ever-increasing rap talent. This led him to enter a rap competition called "Who got Bars" during his sophomore year at the University of Oakwood in Huntsville, Alabama. When he was awarded second place, the prospect of a career in hip-hop crossed his mind and the chemistry he had forged with FreeNation throughout the competition inspired him to take his lyrical persuasions seriously.
In the Fall of 2012, Mick returned to Chicago and began attending YCA (Young Chicago Authors) a youth center where his first acapella verse caught the attention of local artist and leader of Chicago’s PIVOT Gang collective, Saba. Shortly after, the two collaborated on “Heaux” for Saba’s 2012 mixtape GETCOMFORTable.
In the spring of 2013 Mick Released a mixtape entitled Trees and Truths. It quickly became a local favorite, buoyed by acid jazz-influenced production, biblical allegory and lacerating lyricism. The project was by far his most lyrical body of work and caught the attention of Chicago’s incipient gatekeepers. A few months after its release, a collaboration with Chance The Rapper and Vic Mensa came in the form of a single entitled “Crossroads”, which was a summer hit.
In 2014, Mick received a lot of attention after the release of his single "Martyrs." This song juxtaposes harsh truths about our society with a catchy hook, creating a thought-provoking single with various underlying messages and subtle notions. "Martyrs" has led people such as Timbaland, among others, to reach out and praise Jenkins for his musical talent and intricate lyricism. Mick continued to find creative ways to convey his message and he released his project entitled The Waters, the project received positive reviews.
In 2015, Mick went on tour with Kirk Knight, Noname, and Saba. On August 21, 2015, Jenkins released his 9-track EP Wave which also received positive reception. Mick released his debut album The Healing Component in 2016.
Jazz
Mick Jenkins Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Or you might die
Seven Nine, King Drive, you can picture me rollin'
Bendin' corners we was headed to the Rasta
Nigga been blessed but a nigga been sick
And a nigga been stressed so, fuck it I'm a doctor
Self medicated, ginger ale in the champagne flutes and I ain't celebratin'
Shookin' up crack
Where presentation's everything, tell 'em wait 'til I'm plated
Patience, I'm faded, like outdated denim
Hearin' it like this about as rare as a cadence
The boy got some Miles Davis in him, talkin' all that jazz
Tellin' all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Better watch your mouth, better watch your back
Better choose the right way on some fork in the road shit
And of course the path less traveled
Fuck I look like followin' your footsteps?
Don't fumble 'cause this ain't Sunday football
I ain't at home with a footrest
In fact I'm in front of the back of your head
But I'm comin' from behind, better look left
Look left like where the fuck is he?
You got time on your head boy
You got time on your head like you wearing buck fifty
Do it so clean but it's still so filthy, fuck with me
'Cause you already know you fuck niggas really can't really talk with me
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, telling all that truth
Nigga talk your shit, nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, telling all that truth
Nigga talk your shit, nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, telling all that truth
Nigga talk your shit, nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz might get you popped
But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K
Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face
And a hand in the air like JFK
Wait, all in your steam
Better known as a hotbox
Crack rocks in a square, better known as block
Impaired tryna move that's hopscotch
Unfair one leg is a hell of a cock block
My nigga what an anomaly
My nigga look at the world, my nigga what a monopoly
Drop tops in the hood, and they sitting on 22's
Nigga still on section 8 though
Tricking on the low for a ho nigga
Momma at the crib tryna stretch a couple pesos
Couldn't paint a pretty picture with the tears and her makeup
Better get MAACO, makeovers help niggas make money
But I'mma always talk that James Moody
Most rappers these days is actors
And I can't keep watching the same movie
These niggas keep sharing the same models
And these models act like they ain't groupies
I ain't stupid, talking Duke
Ellington, Count Bassie, Monk and Dave Brubeck
I ain't stupid
Talking too eloquent, I ain't stutter, my nigga I ain't Ruben
Ginger ale for the hoes in champagne flutes
Tell one of them come pour me a glass
She don't act up, she can get this truth
Tell her ass read that while I roll this joint
Nigga tryna relax, 'cause the shit don't stop
I ain't tryna relapse to that whack bullshit
Niggas better evac when I drop
'Cause I swear that this black man ain't talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, telling all that truth
Nigga talk your shit, nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, telling all that truth
Nigga talk your shit, nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz, telling all that truth
Nigga talk your shit, nigga talk your shit
Talking all that jazz might get you popped
But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K
Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face
And a hand in the air like JFK
That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus
That Frank Sinatra
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz
That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus
Frank Sinatra
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz
In Mick Jenkins's song "Jazz," the artist offers a commentary on contemporary rap music and the importance of speaking honestly and truthfully in one's lyrics. The song begins with a warning, “drink more water or you might die,” reminding listeners to prioritize their health in a society that often prioritizes excess and indulgence. Jenkins then speaks about his hometown of Chicago, referencing the street King Drive and imagining himself “rollin’” like a classic hip-hop figure. However, he quickly shifts his focus away from bragging about his success, stating that he has been sick and stressed. Instead of celebrating, he takes a “self-medicated” approach with ginger ale rather than champagne. The line “talking all that jazz” is a play on words, referencing his own song title and the colloquial phrase that means “chatter” or “nonsense”. Jenkins argues that many rappers these days are simply actors, and that he refuses to contribute to the monotony. He asserts that he will speak the truth in his music, even if it gets him in trouble, and continues to reference jazz artists like John Coltrane and Charlie Parker who were known for their improvisation and authenticity.
Overall, the song is a commentary on the current state of the music industry and a call to action for artists to be true to themselves and their art.
Line by Line Meaning
Drink more water
Or you might die
Stay hydrated or face the risk of death.
Seven Nine, King Drive, you can picture me rollin'
Bendin' corners we was headed to the Rasta
Nigga been blessed but a nigga been sick
And a nigga been stressed so, fuck it I'm a doctor
Self medicated, ginger ale in the champagne flutes and I ain't celebratin'
Shookin' up crack
Where presentation's everything, tell 'em wait 'til I'm plated
Patience, I'm faded, like outdated denim
Hearin' it like this about as rare as a cadence
The boy got some Miles Davis in him, talkin' all that jazz
I'm rolling down Seven Nine, King Drive, heading to the Rasta shop, blessed but sick and stressed like a doctor. I self-medicate with ginger ale in champagne flutes, not celebrating. My presentation is everything, so wait until I'm ready. I'm faded and rare, influenced by Miles Davis, talking with jazz vibes.
Tellin' all that truth, nigga talk your shit
Better watch your mouth, better watch your back
Better choose the right way on some fork in the road shit
And of course the path less traveled
Fuck I look like followin' your footsteps?
Don't fumble 'cause this ain't Sunday football
I ain't at home with a footrest
In fact I'm in front of the back of your head
But I'm comin' from behind, better look left
Look left like where the fuck is he?
You got time on your head boy
You got time on your head like you wearing buck fifty
Do it so clean but it's still so filthy, fuck with me
'Cause you already know you fuck niggas really can't really talk with me
Speak truth and talk your shit, but be careful and choose the path less traveled. I'm not following your footsteps or fumbling like Sunday football. I'm behind you, so look left. You've got time on your hands like a prison sentence. You might do it well, but it's still dirty. Fuck with me if you want, but you know you can't talk with me if you're not real.
Talking all that jazz might get you popped
But I ain't gonna stop don't A-S-K
Until I'm in a white drop top with a smile on my face
And a hand in the air like JFK
Talking jazz gets you in trouble, but I won't stop. I will keep going until I'm in a white drop top with no worries and a smile like JFK.
Wait, all in your steam
Better known as a hotbox
Crack rocks in a square, better known as block
Impaired tryna move that's hopscotch
Unfair one leg is a hell of a cock block
My nigga what an anomaly
My nigga look at the world, my nigga what a monopoly
Drop tops in the hood, and they sitting on 22's
Nigga still on section 8 though
Tricking on the low for a ho nigga
Momma at the crib tryna stretch a couple pesos
Couldn't paint a pretty picture with the tears and her makeup
Better get MAACO, makeovers help niggas make money
But I'mma always talk that James Moody
Most rappers these days is actors
And I can't keep watching the same movie
These niggas keep sharing the same models
And these models act like they ain't groupies
I ain't stupid, talking Duke
Ellington, Count Bassie, Monk and Dave Brubeck
I ain't stupid
Talking too eloquent, I ain't stutter, my nigga I ain't Ruben
Ginger ale for the hoes in champagne flutes
Tell one of them come pour me a glass
She don't act up, she can get this truth
Tell her ass read that while I roll this joint
Nigga tryna relax, 'cause the shit don't stop
I ain't tryna relapse to that whack bullshit
Niggas better evac when I drop
'Cause I swear that this black man ain't talking all that jazz
You're in a hotbox with crack rocks on the block, playing hopscotch. It's unfair that one mistake can block your cock. The world is a monopoly with wealth and poverty. Section 8 housing and prostitution are still prevalent in the hood. MAACO can fix up your car, but makeovers only exist to make money. I will always talk about Jazz legends like Duke, Ellington, and Monk. I'm not stupid and not shy to speak eloquently. Ginger ale is for the hoes, and I'll roll a joint while they pour me a drink. Relaxing because I won't put up with whack bullshit. When I drop, better evacuate because I ain't talking all that jazz.
That Coltrane, that Charlie Parker, that Charles Mingus
That Frank Sinatra
Talking all that jazz
Talking all that jazz
Coltrane, Parker, Mingus, and Sinatra- they all talked jazz and so do I.
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
Written by: Jayson Jenkins
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind