Jazzy

(🎺 slow jazz swing intro)
Heyyy bitch, where you at?
Got the mic plugged in and the whiskey flat—
I’m sittin’ in my penthouse, fat as a cat,
Tryna blow some shit up, now answer back!

(snaps, bass walkin’)
We got chrome-ass cars and a damn roulette,
Lost ten grand, and I ain’t done yet,
Strip-club lights and a private jet,
Tell my broke-ass brothers, “You better get set!”

(horns slide, snare hit)
Hop online, don’t be no clown,
Los Santos glowin’, we tearin’ it down,
If a cop pulls up, I’ll spin that round—
Boom!—now he’s missin’ half the damn town!

(piano roll, trumpet growl)
Bitch, bring the heat, I’m feelin’ divine,
Got a rocket launcher and a bottle of wine,
Shit’s blowin’ up, it’s a beautiful sign—
This city’s ours, this chaos is mine!

(scat riff, smoky laugh)
Damn
Damn 
Shit shit damn oh shit oh shit oh shit shit damn
Holy shit balls holy damn shit balls 
“Hit that kazoo Tommy”

(Kazoo solo)

(horn section swells)
So get your damn headset, log the hell in,
We’re casin’ the vaults and drinkin’ gin,
I said “Brothers, let’s sin till 5 A.M.,”
‘Cause GTA’s callin’—and it’s jazzin’ again!

1940 jazz, bass, drums, piano, deep male voice