Lyrics:
mine
I did it to death on my grind on a quest to get signed
Sorta like the tribe would always suggest we check the rhyme
An internal with Puff Daddy,
nigga
Y'all niggas ain't bout shit
Y'all niggas spitting that J cole shit
Nigga ain't fuckin' with that shit nigga
Knock a nigga out punch a nigga, yea
YG, Nipsey, and Kendrick yea check
Shout 'em out I just do it like a fucking Nike rep
Bentley truck Chuck, with the Henny cupped up
Don't get me
of love, no lie
Appreciate you more, as time goes by
When it's truly true, it don't die
I see you in L.A., I see you in NY
I see you in the A, I see you
[Rick Ross (J. Holiday)]
You Might need a passport for this one
Its international
J.Holiday!
(And we got a special guess)
Guess who, boss!
(You
milk crates, blaow
It's Swifty from the 313
Like I said, no one is iller than me, uh
Me and Eminem and Mike, drivin' down Van Dyke
Get my dick
to J-O-E-P-L-E-A-S-E please!
Baby don't you get it
You are my addiction
And I was your affliction
Girl I learned my lesson
Now I want you back
By any means
Back
degrees in December
That's why the years go by so fast
It seem like yesterday I used to
Sport that pleather MCM member
Tryin' to be a jack boy, me, Mark
By the time we get to Wichita
Well be fighting over the short straw
We got a used panther in Omaha
Eating cigarettes and cole slaw
Someone please,
IM LIKE J COLE CcUSE ITS c COLD WORLD/I LOVE YOU MORE THcN cNYTHING YOUR MY FcVORITE GIRL/YOU WERE MY SUPERSTcR I GIVE YOU cLL THE CREDIT /OUR LIFE
know Marvin played at your home
But that's the reason why your parents had to get it on
That's the reason why you're probably here anyway
Don't fret,
kicked in doors
Get what's urs
Survival of the fittest, yo
Livin this life wit no limits
U Motha fckaz feel it
Militant in my mind
Cuz I been fighting
J Cole yeah who that
Opor por por
Opor por por
Opor por por
Opor por por
I got two phones both on airplane mode
Cus I aint tryna get no calls
In
Man yall already know what the fuck it is, nigga is Tommy Savo in this bitch
Danny Huncho
Ronka
Yea, yea
I gotta j no Cole in this bitch
I gotta j no
what I'm supposed to do when I run out of you, I'm through
I need a fix like d-boys need bricks
And plus whips to transport 'em
J. Cole, I seen it
you wanna cushion the blow
Now stomp your fucking feet 'til you get to squishing a ho
It's pandemonium, standing O when you see him, oh
Damn, baby
fuck the fame, I'm a simple man
Mr. International, player with the passport
Just like Aladdin, bitch, get you anything you ask for
It's either him
call
My down bitch, one who live by the code
Put this music shit aside, get it in on the road
Lotta quiet time, pink bottles of Rose
Exotic
Make me wan' pop sumthin', no champagne
Two-five on me, weed and crack on me
Bitch motherfucker tried to get a rep' off me
Leave him there, never
when I'm standing at the mound
And I swear its going down, I'm just repping for my town
Off a cup of C-J Gibson, man I'm faded off to Brown
And I'm
there was to say
I get the last word,
It ain't over till it's over
Just when I thought I did all there was to do
I give my best to you
It ain't over
Yeah
This about me tho, nobody else nigga
I can do this shit by myself nigga
all you got do is get hurt nigga
you need to worry bout yourself cuz
breathe
All my love for the city won't let me leave
What they expect from me?
They want the best from me
They gonna get it, yeah
[Chorus]
[Krayzie
to when I was under 18, I was a minor
I was light-headed in a dark place
No J. Cole, middle child era
So I'm tryna settle whether I would be fine by myself
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