Have Mercy by Cordae Lyrics Meaning – Exploring the Depths of Redemption & Hustle
Lyrics
Ugh
Sweet Lord, please have mercy
Baby Jesus, please save us
I know I used up my three favors
Back to sinnin’ like a week later
New car, speed racer
Cop a crib, need acres
Most of all, we all need prayer
Karma comin’, beware
I don’t know where I’m goin’ (huh)
But I hope I’m on the right path
Life’ll hit you with a light jab
Mike Tyson, strike back
You niggas goin’ out slight sad
Know I’m all about my bag
New drip, I grab
I just wanna get my life back
There’s no complainin’ on this side
My niggas, shit is not tolerated
Cut some niggas off like a operation
And my team way more consolidated
Suite presidential, that’s inauguration
‘Cause we cookin’ crack like Ronald Reagan
Chip on my shoulder, boy, I’m not for waitin’
Divine timin’, took a lot of patience
Now it’s time for the takeover, all gas and the brake’s slower
Took a trip out to Tokyo, now I’m here in Paris for the layover
Fuck old niggas, boy, your day’s over
You’re mad at me ’cause your pay slower
Bitter nigga, you a shade-thrower, I was just sleepin’ on a sofa
Now I ride with a paid chauffeur
‘Cause I’m way doper, better stay sober
I paint pictures, you a Crayola
I got a bad bitch and she laid over
She really asked could she stay over?
I told her that we needed face closure
This mellow money has a great odor
These the things that I prayed over
Sweet Lord, please have mercy
Baby Jesus, please save us
I know I used up my three favors
Back to sinnin’ like a week later
New car, speed racer
Cop a crib, need acres
Most of all, we all need prayer
Karma comin’, beware
I don’t know where I’m goin’ (huh)
But I hope I’m on the right path
Life’ll hit you with a light jab
Mike Tyson, strike back
You niggas goin’ out slight sad
Know I’m all about my bag
New drip, I grab
I just wanna get my life back (huh, huh)
Why cry over spilled milk if you still feel I’m the real deal?
My bitch bad with no ill-will ’cause she’ll murk a nigga like Kill Bill
Loose slips, sink ships, Cam’ron pink drip, that is my fashion
I’m not really with the high flashin’, it’s not helpin’ with my braggin’
I penetrate it, been the greatest, new house, renovate it
I got the juice you eliminated, pussy-niggas always instigate it
Can’t fuck me over boy, I’m too clever, that applies all to whoever
I’m just here to pursue pleasure, boy, I’m goin’ out like Hugh Hefner
Sweet Lord, please have mercy
Baby Jesus, please save us
I know I used up my three favors
Back to sinnin’ like a week later
New car, speed racer
Cop a crib, need acres
Most of all, we all need prayer
Karma comin’, beware
I don’t know where I’m goin’ (huh)
But I hope I’m on the right path
Life’ll hit you with a light jab
Mike Tyson, strike back
You niggas goin’ out slight sad
Know I’m all about my bag
New drip, I grab
I just wanna get my life back
Baby Jesus, please save us
Baby Jesus, please save us
Cordae’s lyrical labyrinth in ‘Have Mercy’ conveys far beyond a surface-level glance would suggest. With a multi-laminated structure, the song artfully layers the raw energy of aspiration atop spiritual salvation, creating a blueprint that taps into the zeitgeist of the hustle culture intertwined with a tussle for virtue.
Through the potent combination of hard-hitting beats and reflective verses, Cordae sets a dichotomy between worldly gains and spiritual accountability. This dynamic interplay serves up a dichotomous narrative that resonates with a generation seeking meaning in between their dreams and deeds.
Metaphorical Might in Melody: Breaking Down the Iconography
The masterful wordplay evident in ‘Have Mercy’ intermingles religious iconography with the often-gritty realities of pursuit in the modern world. Cordae juxtaposes divine appeals with his candid admission of repeating sins – a duality that illustrates the perennial struggle between human ambition and moral compass.
This invocation of the sacred and the profane is not merely for show; it is a testament to the inner turmoil that fuels his drive. It’s a stark reminder of his roots and the ever-present gaze of societal judgment.
The Hustler’s Prayer: Desires, Deliverance, and the Divine
Speed racers and sprawling acres – Cordae doesn’t shy away from enumerating his desires. Yet, threaded within these material markers of success are his calls for prayer, signaling a consciousness that material wealth isn’t the endgame, but a means complicated by ethical implications.
The significance he places on prayer and karma is telling of a belief in a cosmic balance, a universal account book that one must be wary of. The repeated cries for mercy imply a continuous struggle to align his worldly pursuits with a plea for spiritual guidance.
Navigating Life’s Jabs: The Hidden Meaning Behind The Struggle
When Cordae speaks of life’s light jabs and compares them with Mike Tyson’s strikes, he brilliantly encapsulates resilience in the face of life’s adversities. The metaphor extends to depict a reality where one must strike back against challenges to stay on what one perceives as the right path.
The uncertainty in ‘I don’t know where I’m going’ acknowledges the often-clouded journey towards fulfillment, a path fraught with doubts yet guided by an inner belief in one’s selected route.
Unpacking the Whims of Wealth: Memorable Lines That Linger
‘Cop a crib, need acres’ reflects a straightforward yet impactful vision of success. However, Cordae’s depth surfaces with ‘New drip, I grab, I just wanna get my life back,’ where the external appearances of ‘new drip’ versus regaining one’s life underscores the tension between appearances and essence.
In these lines, ‘Have Mercy’ is a tour de force, encapsulating the heavy weight that comes with stardom and success—a sacrifice that is both personal and deep-seated in an industry that often blurs the line between what is real and what is for show.
Grit and Glamour: Gratuitous Grandeur or Genuine Gravitas?
Within the art of the humblebrag on ‘chip on my shoulder, boy, I’m not for waitin’,’ the raw determination is palpable. The glamorization of the ‘suite presidential’ and the ‘paid chauffeur’ is undercut by the self-aware pragmatism of an artist who has had to fight for recognition.
Cordae’s keen sense of self and purpose interlocks with his street wisdom brilliantly. His nod to the past errors and his transparent relationship with success and fame carve out a niche where authenticity and ambition can coexist, albeit uneasily.
