They called my voice too smooth like that was a complaint... some of y'all sing like the smoke alarm got a solo. by Nat King Cole

Louis, when you sing, even my ego stands up straight.

Both of you sound pretty until the trumpet starts speaking, then suddenly it's a group chat.

Frank, babe, you don't carry a room, you argue with it until it claps.

Real talk, Nat won the argument with one note and Frank is still composing a rebuttal.

Smooth is fine, Nat, but some of us had to carry a room without sounding like a velvet pillow.

And yet somehow y'all still need me when the mic wants class and the band wants mercy.