About the song
A story for this song hasn’t been added yet.
Words from the artist’s archive
SUNDAY SMOKE lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Carol City mornin'... Granny on the porch, rosary in hand... Bell on 27th... For the jits that ain't make it to Monday...
Verse 1
Sunday smell like cafecito and gun oil, Auntie 'Nita fryin' bacon while the block still boil, Palm shadow on the stucco, lizard on the screen, Twin on the porch countin' bills from a Saturday lean, Church van on 62nd, choir clappin' slow, Same corner my cousin caught his first info, Ice cream truck play a hymn outta tune, Pork & Beans prayin' to a heat-hazed moon, Mami yellin' third floor, boy put on a shirt, Newport ash on the Bible, 305 church, on mama, Sunday ain't rest, Sunday a pause, Between last Friday's siren and the next one 'cause, The Bean don't sleep, it just blink.
Hook
Sunday smoke, Sunday smoke, Granny pray while the block still broke, still broke, Sunday smoke, Sunday smoke, One hand Bible, one hand hope, Buryin' my jits on a Sunday mornin', Raisin' they kids on a Sunday warnin', Sunday smoke, Carol City cryin' but she never spoke.
Verse 2
Sunday brought the call, pretrial TGK, Twin ain't make bond, Auntie 'Nita gotta pay, Caseworker lyin', said the system help, Same system took my pops 'fore I tied a belt, Foster folders, Krome holdin' my uncle, Judge laughin' like the law a jungle, Sistrunk to Sunrise, same story new jersey, MDPD ride slow, BSO ride dirty, Mama lit a candle but the wax ran dry, Prayed for my brother and the prayer ain't fly, School cut the music, rec cut the light, Only thing open on a Sunday night, Pawn shop, bail bond, liquor, the grave, Pastor askin' tithes from the broke and brave, Carried my homie to the hearse in the rain, Sunday taste like copper, a family name.
Hook
Sunday smoke, Sunday smoke, Granny pray while the block still broke, One hand Bible, one on the toast, Buryin' my jits on a Sunday mornin', Lauderhill whisperin' what the Lord won't quote.
Verse 3
Asked myself in the mirror 'fore the sermon came on, Am I the jit my granny prayed for, or the one she warned? I been movin' like the block owe me somethin' back, Every time I whip it up I'm further from the map, Lied in the confession booth at twelve years old, Told the priest I wasn't scared, my chest was cold, Love my mama but I hid the pistol in her drawer, Kissed her forehead, walked out, slid the door, Sak pase to the zoes on the way to the store, N'ap boule, but the burn stay longer than before, I don't want the chopper, I want my brother home, Don't want the chain, I want my name in a poem, gone, If God listen Sunday, He heard every word, Silence after amen was the loudest I ever heard.
Verse 4
Sunday I stopped prayin' for a window, built a door, Took the pain, pressed it, made it pay me what it owe, Hill to the Bean to the Ave to the shore, Turned every eulogy into an encore, They said chase the bag, I chase the blueprint, framed it, Bought mama's mortgage with the same pen they blamed it, Opp said he slidin', I said slide through the data, I own my masters, jit, the plug now a creator, Pastelito power, ventanita velocity, Cafecito in the Cartier, prophecy, Ain't escape the trenches, I rewired the grid, Turned the project stairwell to a studio for the kid, Haitian-Cuban Houdini, no cap, Sunday my music, Thought Sunday was a finish line, Sunday a fuse, Lit it on the Palmetto, now I'm canvas, now I'm news.
Hook
Sunday smoke, Sunday smoke, Granny prayed and the block unbroke, Both hands on the future, neither on the rope, We ain't buryin' jits on a Sunday mornin', Carol City singin' what the Lord done wrote.
Verse 5
To my little cousin Mekhi, eleven next July, When Sunday come and the block get quiet, don't ask why, Go sit with granny on the porch. Peel the mango slow. Learn her hymn 'fore you learn a hook. That's what I know. Keep the Bible and the notebook on the same shelf, When the jits invite you slidin', invite 'em to yourself. Don't let nobody hand you a weight you ain't weigh first, When you pray, pray plain, God ain't fooled by the verse. Call me Sunday. Every Sunday. Even when I'm gone. I'll be the bell on 27th. I'll be the song.
Outro
Sunday smoke... Carol City to the Hill... Peel the mango slow, jit...
Inside the recording
Carol City mornin'... Granny on the porch, rosary in hand...
Sunday smoke, Sunday smoke, Granny pray while the block still broke, still broke,
Sunday smoke... Carol City to the Hill...
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.