In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
*Young Chris verse*
(Chyeah, yeah, uh-huh)
Gunna!(Sail on!)
Shit was all good while it lasted,
but I can't keep on ?flowing?.
As long as the fiends keep on itchin',
nigga, the grams keep on sellin`.
(Thats right!)
Bottom of the roost.
From the heart of North Philly,
to the top of Hollywood,
model bitches, Cali-good.
I got something that they need,
that they want.
I'm the supplier, shorty.
Low numbers on them pretty bitches,
and its FIRE!
Ghetto be my prior.
I be the one that they admire.
Home of the flier.
I gotta become a retire.
Its a rap!
I got it from here.
Yes I solemnly swear.
This is a global introduction, a hottest premiere.
Been the fuzziest year.
Staring out of my rear,
Fuck the pussy police!
We got shotties to air.
Never dead body, a pair.
Payed a pussies a visit.
Never mind being tense,
never fuck a statistic.
Never disappearance, and nobody know why he did it.
Its just the code of this shit,
and we live it.
Curren$y kick it.
(Uh kick it)
*Curren$y verse 1*
Yeah!
One of the masters of the drug flow.
Anti-club dress code,
I just ignore those.
Narnia lions, different dimensions in my wardrobe.
Bankin' on the outside of the box like a barcode. (Sail on!)
Like a seven-foot sinna,
Spitta don't gotta cross ova.
I just stay in the lane,
show off dunks and hang
from my goals obtained.
Planes boarded,
so i was already soarin'.
You smell it in my clothes
mixed with cologne by Ralph Lauren.
Spitta missin',
you lookin' for him?
Take a number nigga,
never home.
Gotta call me on the yacht,
floatin' out.
Bottles poppin' before I left the dock.
Who is that?
In the Vinny Jack?
Bumpin' super cat?
XJ 12,
soft top, retractable shell.
Parking near the boat launch in Paris,
spending french bread,
nigga croissants.
I got a flow that you can sail on,
Yeauh!
*Chorus*
Sail on, Julia!(Yea, yep. They look up to jets nigga, now what they doin?)
Without the fears of ghosts. (Wondering if they-)
Sail on, Julia!(Crookin' their necks and they lookin' up to the JETS.)
Without the fears of ghosts.(From the mansion to the yacht deck.)
*Curren$y verse 2*
(Uh)
Spitta is chillin'.
Jeans, paper, denim.
Milk and Oreos with the double stuffed filling.
On the internet,
ordering another engine
for the lavender Chevy
with the suede gray innards.
Seen niggas go insane trying to get it.
The thought process of a first place winna.
JETS nigga!
We enter the dragon, got
Bruce Lee in the go-yard,
my lethal kicks cause damage.
Vaca. Puff Sour Diesel in the hammy.
They hated on it,
said that it could never happen.
I waited on em,
as my plan was bein mastered.
Have patience cuz the best is the last laughin'.
Slashing, dancing, through my defenders,
no look passin'.
Bitches in the rapture love my rappin' with a passion.
And I'm,
New Orleans fliest.
Do rewind this.
The JETS get the highest.
(Uh)
*Chorus*
Sail on, Julia!
Without the fears of ghosts.
Sail on, Julia!
Without the fears of ghosts.
(Chyeah, yeah, uh-huh)
Gunna!(Sail on!)
Shit was all good while it lasted,
but I can't keep on ?flowing?.
As long as the fiends keep on itchin',
nigga, the grams keep on sellin`.
(Thats right!)
Bottom of the roost.
From the heart of North Philly,
to the top of Hollywood,
model bitches, Cali-good.
I got something that they need,
that they want.
I'm the supplier, shorty.
Low numbers on them pretty bitches,
and its FIRE!
Ghetto be my prior.
I be the one that they admire.
Home of the flier.
I gotta become a retire.
Its a rap!
I got it from here.
Yes I solemnly swear.
This is a global introduction, a hottest premiere.
Been the fuzziest year.
Staring out of my rear,
Fuck the pussy police!
We got shotties to air.
Never dead body, a pair.
Payed a pussies a visit.
Never mind being tense,
never fuck a statistic.
Never disappearance, and nobody know why he did it.
Its just the code of this shit,
and we live it.
Curren$y kick it.
(Uh kick it)
*Curren$y verse 1*
Yeah!
One of the masters of the drug flow.
Anti-club dress code,
I just ignore those.
Narnia lions, different dimensions in my wardrobe.
Bankin' on the outside of the box like a barcode. (Sail on!)
Like a seven-foot sinna,
Spitta don't gotta cross ova.
I just stay in the lane,
show off dunks and hang
from my goals obtained.
Planes boarded,
so i was already soarin'.
You smell it in my clothes
mixed with cologne by Ralph Lauren.
Spitta missin',
you lookin' for him?
Take a number nigga,
never home.
Gotta call me on the yacht,
floatin' out.
Bottles poppin' before I left the dock.
Who is that?
In the Vinny Jack?
Bumpin' super cat?
XJ 12,
soft top, retractable shell.
Parking near the boat launch in Paris,
spending french bread,
nigga croissants.
I got a flow that you can sail on,
Yeauh!
*Chorus*
Sail on, Julia!(Yea, yep. They look up to jets nigga, now what they doin?)
Without the fears of ghosts. (Wondering if they-)
Sail on, Julia!(Crookin' their necks and they lookin' up to the JETS.)
Without the fears of ghosts.(From the mansion to the yacht deck.)
*Curren$y verse 2*
(Uh)
Spitta is chillin'.
Jeans, paper, denim.
Milk and Oreos with the double stuffed filling.
On the internet,
ordering another engine
for the lavender Chevy
with the suede gray innards.
Seen niggas go insane trying to get it.
The thought process of a first place winna.
JETS nigga!
We enter the dragon, got
Bruce Lee in the go-yard,
my lethal kicks cause damage.
Vaca. Puff Sour Diesel in the hammy.
They hated on it,
said that it could never happen.
I waited on em,
as my plan was bein mastered.
Have patience cuz the best is the last laughin'.
Slashing, dancing, through my defenders,
no look passin'.
Bitches in the rapture love my rappin' with a passion.
And I'm,
New Orleans fliest.
Do rewind this.
The JETS get the highest.
(Uh)
*Chorus*
Sail on, Julia!
Without the fears of ghosts.
Sail on, Julia!
Without the fears of ghosts.
Lyrics submitted by klootch, edited by Mellow_Harsher
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