Blackjack by Death Grips: The Intense Intersection of Gambling, Power, and Control


You can view the lyrics, alternate interprations and sheet music for Death Grips's Blackjack at Lyrics.org.
Article Contents:
  1. Music Video
  2. Lyrics
  3. Song Meaning
  4. The Allure of the Abyss: Gambling as Self-Destruction
  5. Underneath the Iron Fist: The Song’s Hidden Power Struggle
  6. Escape to Reclaim: What ‘Can’t Do a Thing but Fold’ Really Means
  7. A Symphony of Dissonance: The Relentless Soundscape of ‘Blackjack’
  8. Vivid Verses: The Most Memorable Lines of Death Grips’ ‘Blackjack’

Lyrics

How I ride, why I ride, never really had ta try
I, I, I eeuuhh
Nevermind that, black jack
Needle to da mainline junk prepared in a head that
Never came up for air
Fallin’ apart can’t get a grip
Don’t give a fuck if I did

Way shit goes
It’ll be just fine
Oh, oh, oh
How to rob men blind

(Can’t do a thing but fold)
Yeah watch that
Can’t do a thing black jack

Comin from that hit me until
Twenty one makes
Your chips mine
Black jack don’t trip
You got the bill
Twenty one shots to your grill

Bow down or die every time
I slap them thangs
Flat black chains rattlin’
Shawshank the box
Can’t be contained
Man came ta pick the lock
Empty the vault
And leave no trace
Sleep don’t wake

Hit em low and keep rollin’ to da beat no breaks
Slow it down then accelerate
To hell its cake
Like sellin’ weight
No middle man
Made bitch mistakes
Blackjack

High king, ace, to knees the place put down by g’s raisin the stakes

You know whats up
Straight
How the fuck is that?
Blackjack

But don’t forget to watch this
Tongue push bankroll off my lips
Who the hell are you legit
What the fuck you think man shit
Blackjack
(always keep my)

No need ta count the deck
I own it
Drop that
Lead chin check
To your dome its on black
Respect me zone or get caught back handed leather strap
Hit ya so hard knocked flat broke by a bloke wit dat golden contact glove hold da smoke
Of most high fire bon tap tap
(Can’t do a thing but fold)
Yeah watch that

Can’t do a thing blackjack

Don’t forget to watch this
Tongue push bankroll
Off my lips
Who the hell are you legit
What the fuck you think man shit

You know whats up
Straight
How the fuck is that blackjack

Blackjack don’t trip you got the bill, twenty one shots to your grill

Full Lyrics

In the cacophony of modern music, Death Grips’ ‘Blackjack’ stands out as a turbulent, adrenaline-fueled manifesto, a track that beats with the heart of rebellion and raw power. The experimental rap outfit known for their abrasive sound and anarchic ethos delve into themes of control, addiction, and dominance, weaving a complex narrative that goes beyond the surface level aggression.

A deep dive into ‘Blackjack’ unearths a layered tale of self-destructive tendencies, resilience, and the pursuit of victory at all costs. It’s a song that thrives on chaos, binding listeners to a rhythmic assault that demands introspection as much as head-banging. Let’s unpack the potent imagery and intricate wordplay that makes this track an essential piece in the puzzling artwork that is Death Grips’ discography.

The Allure of the Abyss: Gambling as Self-Destruction

Death Grips’ evocation of ‘blackjack’ isn’t merely a throwaway reference to a card game—it’s a metaphor for the high-stakes gamble with life itself. The lyrics speak to an inner turmoil, a compulsion to keep playing even when the player is suffocating, ‘never came up for air’. It’s about pushing boundaries and seeing how far one can ride on the edge before falling apart.

This self-destructive streak isn’t glamorized; it’s depicted as a necessary evil, a way to feel alive amidst a numb existence. The game of blackjack thus becomes a twisted form of survival, a test of resilience in the face of overwhelming odds.

Underneath the Iron Fist: The Song’s Hidden Power Struggle

There’s a sense of domination and control threading through the lyrics. The act of robbing ‘men blind,’ the reference to the ‘king,’ ‘ace,’ and ‘knees’—these are images painted with the brush of power dynamics. Death Grips propels listeners into a world where the ultimate goal is to conquer and subdue, to be the one holding the deck.

The music itself mirrors this struggle, with beats and rhythms that pummel and coerce. There’s a visceral energy that captures the essence of a power play. In ‘Blackjack,’ supremacy is the currency, and every line is a transaction in this gritty economy.

Escape to Reclaim: What ‘Can’t Do a Thing but Fold’ Really Means

Couched in the ferocity of the song’s language is an admission of vulnerability. The recurring line ‘Can’t do a thing but fold’ unveils a moment of defeat, a crack in the armor. It’s a stark contrast to the overall aggression, suggesting that even amidst the relentless pursuit of control, there exists the potential for surrender.

However, in true Death Grips fashion, this acknowledgment is not a sign of weakness but a tactical retreat. There is wisdom in knowing when to fold, to live and fight another day. The fold is not the end—it is a strategic pause within the chaos.

A Symphony of Dissonance: The Relentless Soundscape of ‘Blackjack’

The production of ‘Blackjack’ is an intricate masterpiece of controlled anarchy. It’s an auditory assault that never relents, fueling the song’s intensity and reflecting the frenetic spirit of its lyrics. Death Grips thrives in generating a noise that is as disruptive as it is captivating, a soundscape that is impossible to ignore.

The dissonant sounds act as another layer of meaning. They parallel the jagged edges of life’s gambles, the unpredictability of the draw, and the clatter of chips on the table. The music isn’t just heard—it’s an experience, all-encompassing and inescapable, capturing the listener in its fervent grip.

Vivid Verses: The Most Memorable Lines of Death Grips’ ‘Blackjack’

A barrage of powerful imagery is unveiled line by line, but some stand out for their raw potency. ‘Empty the vault and leave no trace,’ for instance, encapsulates a take-no-prisoners attitude towards life’s endeavors. It speaks to a desire to strip situations down to their core, to emerge without the burden of the past.

Lines like ‘twenty one shots to your grill’ and ‘High king, ace, to knees the place put down by g’s raisin the stakes’ offer a glimpse into the assertive, no-holds-barred philosophy that underpins the song. These words aren’t just spoken; they crackle through the air, leaving an indelible mark on the psyche of all who traverse the complex terrain of ‘Blackjack.’

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