VCRs Lyrics – JID

VCRs Lyrics Meaning

[Intro]
This part sets the tone with strong emotions and history. It mentions places like Rosewood, Oscarville, and Tulsa—places connected to violent, racist acts in U.S. history. The line suggests that the same pain, rage, and strength from those times now fuels their art. It’s like saying, “We’re still here, and we haven’t forgotten.” Then it ends with a blunt “Fu\*k you” to show defiance and resistance.

[Verse 1: JID]
JID kicks things off talking about the chase for the American Dream—like big houses, luxury, and wealth—but hints that it can also humble you or change who you are. He compares a relationship to Romeo and Juliet, suggesting it might feel romantic, but also risky or dangerous. His mom warned him about it, saying it might not be the smartest move.

Then he talks about how power and money can control people, comparing it to the Monopoly man, symbolizing how capitalism plays with people’s lives. He makes a clever play on the board game too—”Pass Go, get $200″—but flips it in a gritty way. He’s from a place he calls “the six,” rejecting evil influences but still surrounded by them. He brings up the Prince of Egypt and seeing life from a higher, spiritual point of view, even though he grew up around so much bad stuff that it felt normal.

He mentions real-life stories of people staying silent instead of snitching—even when it cost them their lives. That secrecy, that street code, runs deep. He brings up cops profiling him, how he might get stopped just because they feel threatened, and how he might go live on Instagram if he feels unsafe. If things get too real, he’s ready to protect himself.

He’s loyal to his people—he expects them to protect him and promises to protect them back. There’s a line about a single gunshot leading to a “second line,” which refers to New Orleans-style funeral parades—showing how quick things can go from bad to tragic.

Then he runs through a fast-paced count of what’s happening around his block: guys riding strapped in cars, others on trap phones at gas stations, people caught in traffic—but some of them actually made it out of the tough life. He’s up early, hasn’t eaten yet, trying to feed himself through music instead of crime.

He stays strapped too, ready for danger. He’s always alert, and most of the time, people around him are in defense mode. But he’s also spiritually grounded—he knows street rules and uses music as his way out. He talks about writing lyrics like they’re pouring out of his head, packed with so much pressure that it could explode.

He doesn’t let small problems get to him—he’s been through too much. He might seem a little unhinged (“psycho”), but he keeps a weapon like he’s fishing, always prepared. He grew up where old shoes hung from power lines, a symbol of poverty or memorial. He paints images of women trying to survive too—doing hair for cheap, or selling themselves at night.

He ends this verse hoping that people will stay sane even with all this chaos around them. It’s a moment of reflection, like he’s saying, “I’ve seen it all, I’m still here, and I’m holding on.”

[Verse 2: Vince Staples]
Vince comes in and says that life gets better over time, but there’s no rewinding—it’s not a movie you can replay. The world has moved on from old things like VCRs, and now everyone’s chasing money. But no matter how much you get, it never really feels like enough. The system makes the money, and that money ends up shaping everything.

He talks about how people used to hustle just to get a glimpse of something better. They stirred up trouble just to feel close to paradise, but most folks couldn’t understand that struggle. Everyone wants success, but they don’t want the pain that comes with it.

He reflects on how he’s seen real violence—people dying, friends going to jail, people staying silent and getting killed. Rap seems cool now, but for him, it came from a place of survival. He feels like their stories get forgotten, just scattered memories in a bigger picture.

Then he gives a quick snapshot of his past: riding with guns, stealing cars, and years later still being in the same rough neighborhood. Even though he’s made millions now, he’ll never forget eating cheap instant noodles and how it felt like a luxury.

Most of the time, his people managed to beat the justice system, but petty crimes like robberies never really changed their lives. He ends with a shoutout to a shotgun that doesn’t even need to be aimed—it’s that powerful, like a reminder that the threat of violence still hangs over everything.

[Verse 3: JID]
JID wraps it up by questioning if someone survived all the chaos and became something greater—like turning into an angel. It’s like saying someone made it out, but it cost them their life or soul. When shots ring out, people don’t think—they just run, like Olympic sprinter Jackie Joyner-Kersee.

He opens up a bit more, saying no one moves perfectly, and he hopes people still see his value even when he’s not at his best. He’s been wrestling with his inner battles, trying to chase dreams while fighting personal demons, addiction, and life’s struggles. This inner fight, for him, is what life’s all about.