Community Lyrics – JID

Community Lyrics Meaning

[Chorus: JID]
This part is talking about how nature and emotion respond to the struggles of life in the hood, but they just can’t fully get it. The rain and sun try to understand the pain people go through, but it’s really the violence and trauma—like guns and suffering—that actually force you to see the truth. It’s like everything around you starts to shake and pull you into this chaotic world that feels like a never-ending storm. There’s also a warning vibe in the lines, like trouble is always around the corner, and if you’re not ready, it’ll catch you slipping. He’s asking where your voice or strength is in the middle of all this. It’s dark, intense, and sounds like a challenge to anyone who’s watching from the outside or not fully present in the fight.

[Verse 1: JID]
This verse shows how rough and wild life is in the projects. JID is painting a picture of apartments where police barely show up, and the streets kind of run themselves. People hustle, hang out, and throw parties there, but it’s not all fun—it’s a trap. You either end up playing basketball or joining a gang, like that’s all the options you get. His mom wants them to leave because it’s dangerous—people literally die there, and it becomes normal. The sad part is, the people living there didn’t even cause these problems, but they’re the ones paying the price. There’s this sense of frustration and helplessness, but also a bit of hope that it doesn’t have to end this way.

[Verse 2: MARCO PLUS]
Marco is straight up saying he doesn’t care about the fake drama in the music industry because it doesn’t matter in real life. When his friend Tay died, no one cared, especially those big names and flashy people. He’s calling out how fake a lot of rappers are—talking big online or in songs, but it’s all just a front. He sees through it and won’t play along. Marco’s also pointing out that even the most feared or respected person in the neighborhood can still get taken out—no one’s really safe. He throws in a quick line comparing how people idolize 2Pac, but he’s thinking even more deeply, though he cuts himself off before saying too much. It’s like he’s warning that some stuff is too real to even talk about publicly because of how dangerous it can get.

[Verse 3: JID]
JID taps into a deep and almost spiritual vibe here. The phrase “Lisan al Gaib” is from *Dune*, referring to a prophetic voice or guide. He sees a small chance, a glimmer of hope, even in unfamiliar or risky situations. He talks about speaking freely without holding back, even when it’s risky, and how facing that danger makes you stronger. Then it gets intense—he says he’d take violent action before letting people kick his community out of their space. He brings up the kids and how they’re impacted by all this mess, and how watching the news gives him that same feeling of frustration and helplessness. Still, he believes they’ll make it through anything—whether it’s Heaven, Hell, or a flood. He talks about how dangerous the roads are, both literally and metaphorically. He gives everything he has, even to God, and would do it again. He’s been through pain, seen chaos, stayed focused, and feels like he’s finally grown into his brilliance. When he moved to Virginia, which people call a place for lovers, he found it rough and real—very different from the image. He leaves the rest for someone else to explain, telling the listener to pay close attention.

[Verse 4: Pusha T]
Pusha starts by saying he knows exactly what’s lacking in his neighborhood and then admits he brought drügs there, flipping the idea of gentrification in a dark way. He talks about being armed and loyal to his people, kind of like being in the military. He breaks it down simply: he was that guy on the street corner, sitting by the green electrical box, trying to make money and build status. He references *The Wire*, showing how real their situation was—from being lookouts to becoming suppliers. The environment is like a prison, with only one way in and out. Cops on bikes don’t even try to de-escalate—they’re just part of the threat. Getting home safely is a daily mission. People go missing so often it’s almost expected. Whether it’s the projects, ghettos, or low-income apartments, it’s all the same struggle. He reflects on how growing up meant playing dangerous games, while being pumped full of meds like ADHD pills, and no one taught them how to handle the anger and pain that built up inside.

[Chorus: JID]
This chorus repeats to bring back that haunting feeling. Nature tries to “get it,” but it’s the pain and violence that really drive the point home. Everything around feels loud, shaky, and almost magical in a twisted way, like some energy pulling everyone toward their fate. He’s still asking that same question—where’s your strength, where’s your voice? It’s like he’s daring the listener to show up, to speak up, or to be real in the middle of all this heavy chaos.

[Verse 5: Malice]
Malice makes it clear that just because you come from or talk about the hood doesn’t mean you understand it. Where he’s from, people are really dying—it’s not some story. Saying goodbye is so common, it’s like the only song people know. Drügs are turning young boys into grown men way too fast, forcing them to choose sides early. He compares different kinds of people—some are like Jesus Shuttlesworth (a baller), others like Nasir (a deep thinker), but all are stuck in a harsh world. It’s survival of the fittest, and revenge is normal. Life moves fast, like *New Jersey Drive* (a movie about car theft). He calls out people who act like they’re real but aren’t, and how government housing feels like a timeshare—lots of people in one place, but nobody stable. Fathers are missing, not by accident but by design. The system divides families, causes crashes, and leaves young men with no guidance. Kids grow up surrounded by danger—candy stores on one end, drug zones on the other. The projects are like a horror movie set—nightmares just waiting to happen.