Lyrics:
Jim Carrey
Go dig for David Cole I'm back in office like Marion Barry
My crew parleys while your girl braiding my braids
MC's are afraid in so Many
(Hit it Murph)
(Woo)
(David Lee, Cole Swindell)
(Shy Carter, baby)
Right now I really need a beer with my friends
Pop a top or two and talk
Delight
Or some David Allan Cole
I like to raise my cup up and make a toast
Here's too beer
I like beer
It makes me happy
I don't give a damn if it's
on my back
And share the love
Cause I care for ya
I’m Nat Turner meets Nat King Cole and David Walker
Black William Lloyd Garrison
Black Barry Gibbs
ima weak Nigga I'll show em all why he's wrong
Amplified my power what's up Nigga now he strong
I can make a j cole vibe or David east song
She said she
Without You
David Foster, Richard Marx, Samantha Cole
Never even thought to cry
when I heard you say good-bye
never said where you were going
trompazo frente al cole
se veía cómico
David derrotando a Goliat
que es una mole
la rubia le sonríe
el muchacho dijo nones
él se fue con su media naranja
y
that's the one that you found in the closet
No, I'm not modest, all freestyle, I ain't writing David Goggins
Shit, turn it to Cole Bennett cause I pull up
en su mundo de avaricia
Dj Cristian, Alvarito Canole, Brian David
Anima que anima Pantera, DJ Kevin The Producer
Y este es PR, nota la diferencia,
Welcome to POD
Psalms of David, these words written by God tell em'
Yeah, I said welcome to POD
Psalms of David, these words written by God tell em'
Yeah, uh huh
David Banner on the beat bitch
Ha ha ha
Young Money, Streets
I'm a east sider rider, whoa kemosabe
Bitches get to stepping like Cole
with the trap music
I mix black soul with some rock and roll
They never box me in, I'm David Blaine-ing all you hoes
Oh yea, let's go there, my DNA is
up, turned your bitch to an eater
Nigga's mad, we up, turned your bitch to an eater
We Cole, no Keisha (we Cole), east side, raise E's up
Pussy
nigga watch me cook
On my Jamie Olie
I’m the man,
Bitch I’m way too groovy damn
I’m on my Austin Powers
Out da mud, to the next J Cole
All my bars
though we no more
Mr. Star, much love to Navi, Butcher, D-Lo, (Miss Cole)
Butcher source of Quran right now, it's all good, much love to ya!
All my
Yeah, uh huh
David Banner on the beat b****
Ha ha ha
Young Money, Streets
I'm a east sider rider, whoa kemosabe
B****es get to stepping like
Dude's rude and as useless as coins, shoot 'em boys
Versed in, rehearsed in the soothing of loins
Talk to Joey, Earl, Kendrick, and Cole, gatekeepers
shots
I'm David Blaine, I'm breakin' out of my own box, you stay the same
But homie if you change, may you change for the better
Back when Martin King
It's David Banner y'all
And it's Nitty y'all
Chamillionaire y'all
And we go a little something like this
It's David Banner y'all
And it's Nitty
of the Wu-Tang manual
Handles to keep this hip-hop shit tangible
Illegible, every egg ain't edible
My tracks remain Unforgettable
Like Ol' Nat Cole
Got to catch
(Cole)
Roof top, hoes turnt up
Lookin' for your bitch, bet she won't turn up
Wonder where she is, fuck could she be
She's a ho, she's a slut, she's
Nat King Cole and Dick Van Patten
New York Dolls all dressed in satin
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my cigarette
My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my
your audience is bitches
And white boys mostly, niggas know a verse from Cole
Be like a signed Michael Jordan rookie card in mint condition
'cause I need a favor
I got broads in Atlanta, trappin' in Decatur
Me and David Beckham fuckin' the same hoes
Apartment in Tribeca on the third floor
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