Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Looking Back, artist - Loyle Carner. Date of issue: 18.04.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Looking Back |
| Face this |
| Like water, never taste this |
| Evil, white rose to a racist |
| They used to hype 'cause my mothers face was white and my fathers face blacker |
| than the scene outside a spaceship |
| Flooded with rocks and jewels, crystals shine and shimmer |
| He never let me use their words, «due time my jigga» |
| Never called me nigga, said it’s the master’s tongue |
| But being black and white, the trouble never asked for none |
| But they all passed me some, fuck it, I grabbed it |
| Both hands in the darkest sun, scribbled 'til the parker’s done |
| Grabbed another pen and scribbled where the parker’s spun |
| Following in footstops of fathers who were asked to run |
| But not the one who wanted out and so they disappear |
| All caught up in the fam and feeling like they interfere |
| I’m thinking that my great grandfather could’ve owned my other one |
| And yo, that shit is weird |
| I’m lost (I'm) |
| Wondering my cost (I'm) |
| Telling you, it hurts, (I'm) |
| If you don’t know your worth |
| So we run from the maker like sons in Jamaica |
| Heart break, breaker like the sun’s an equator |
| We wasted it, before we even tasted it |
| Cities on fire |
| Quite literally |
| The reason nobody’s talking remains a mystery |
| My brother’s lost, telling him do it differently |
| I wanna take the blame but we don’t share the same history |
| I’m lost |
| Wonder my cost up in this space |
| Mixed race, colour on my face, feeling misplaced |
| A waste |
| Ain’t tryna tell you how my shit taste |
| Pack a couple days in this thin case, make a move |
| Write everyday and night 'til I say the truth |
| Lose looking for some proof that I’m still in news |
| See, I got it all to lose, nothing to prove |
| Promise the day I get paid, I’ma pay my dues |
| Uh, find the karma |
| Told me I’m from Ghana but really it’s Guyana |
| Uh, I’m Coyle Larner to Carner, the birth place of my father’s father |
| I don’t know the answer |
| I’m lost |
| Wondering my cost |
| Telling you it hurts |
| If you don’t know your worth |
| So we run from the maker like sons in Jamaica |
| Heart bait breaker, duh, whatever |
| Wasted it, before we even tasted it |
| Fuck |
| Loyle Carner: Ay, yeah, can I just get uhhh… You got chicken soup? |
| Vendor: Nah, only goat soup for today |
| Loyle Carner: Uh, can I get one goat soup… erm… and then some curried |
| chicken with, uhm, rice and peas |
| Vendor: Only plain rice |
| Loyle Carner: Yeah, can I just get plain rice then, and some, er, |
| steamed veg as well please |
| Vendor: Only plain rice? |
| Loyle Carner: Yeah |