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Words from the artist’s archive
Parlay Funeral lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
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Intro
TV glow on the bottles, whole corner blue We was prayin' on a ticket more than the team we rootin' to
Verse 1
Grease on the table, flats bones stuck to the tray Phone on three percent, still refreshin' every play Duke said, "This one a lock," like he own what Vegas know I had rent in the boost, actin' calm, but my stomach low Bartender know our faces, not our names, that's the sickness High fives over near-hits, broke boys cheerin' almost-riches Whole bar smell like beer, cold fries, bad decisions And every screen in the room looked like a church for superstition
Pre-chorus
We wasn't watchin' ball, we was watchin' numbers breathe One leg die, whole section go quiet like somebody grieved You can feel pride leave when the cash-out disappear Still nobody say stop, just "Run it back, we here"
Chorus
Another slip in the air like a prayer we don't believe Another "bro, I got it" from a liar with a shaky sleeve Another night in that corner, all teeth, no peace Whole gang yellin' "cook" while the table goin' deceased Another slip in the air, ash fallin' off the dream Same bar, same faces, same hurt under the screen And if it hit, it's liquor, if it miss, it's "that's the game" Funny how we call it love when it keep collectin' pain
Verse 2
One homie start borrowin' from whoever still had motion Laughin' too loud, eyes red, voice full of bad devotion Said his girl think he workin', said his moms think he straight Whole time he parlayed the grocery money and the light bill late We clowned him to his face, sent memes in the group But nobody took his phone, nobody walked him out the loop Just more locks, more boosts, more "watch this, I'ma crack it" Like a room full of addicts helpin' one another mask it
Pre-chorus
When the fourth go left, you can hear your heartbeat tick Ice in the cup, no words, just the notification click Everybody got a system till the layup rims out wrong Then it's curses, dead stares, and another sad song
Chorus
Another slip in the air like a prayer we don't believe Another "bro, I got it" from a liar with a shaky sleeve Another night in that corner, all teeth, no peace Whole gang yellin' "cook" while the table goin' deceased Another slip in the air, ash fallin' off the dream Same bar, same faces, same hurt under the screen And if it hit, it's liquor, if it miss, it's "that's the game" Funny how we call it love when it keep collectin' pain
Verse 3
By January nobody watched the sport for real Just spreads, props, promo codes, and how a bad beat feel Screenshots in the chat like trophies from a war we losin' Talked like analysts, lived like folks with nothin' left but choosin' His sister sent him money for his son, that part sat foul He said he'd pay it back when the under hit by halftime now You ever see a man go hollow in a room full of noise? That's when I knew the book was really sellin' us a voice
Bridge
Then one night his stool stayed empty through the second half No jokes landed right, even the loudest dude ain't laugh Phone face down in my palm, app logo lookin' evil Crazy how a room can turn haunted when you lose one of your people
Verse 4
I deleted all the apps in that same bathroom stall Hands shakin', head down, hearin' playoff echoes through the wall Had to learn how to watch a game and let the game be enough Had to call what we had what it was, not love, just dressed-up lust Still pass that bar sometimes, still see that blue light leak Still hear broke prophets preachin' over drums and parlay sheets I don't judge, I remember, that's the part that hurt me most How easy men call it brotherhood when everybody dyin' slow
Chorus
Another slip in the air like a prayer we don't believe Another "bro, I got it" from a liar with a shaky sleeve Another night in that corner, all teeth, no peace Whole gang yellin' "cook" while the table goin' deceased Another slip in the air, ash fallin' off the dream Same bar, same faces, same hurt under the screen And if it hit, it's liquor, if it miss, it's "that's the game" Funny how we call it love when it keep collectin' pain
Outro
TV still glowin', stool still bare Playoffs on mute, ain't no winners over there
Inside the recording
TV glow on the bottles, whole corner blue We was prayin' on a ticket more than the team we rootin' to
We wasn't watchin' ball, we was watchin' numbers breathe One leg die, whole section go quiet like somebody grieved
TV still glowin', stool still bare Playoffs on mute, ain't no winners over there
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.