[Produced by J. Cole]
[Verse 1: J. Cole]
It’s ya nigga, deep thinker, big drinker
Late night, with ya wife in ya crib sneaker
When you out of town, and you not around
Turn your ass over like a nigga stepped out of bounds
Crowd around young’n
I got ammo and a lot of rounds coming
Up in the streets where you not allowed, runnin’
Got the songs bitches ride around hummin’
And the niggas stay thumpin’
And the hater’s hate pumpin’
Got the 808′s bumpin’
So the trunks stay thumpin’
And the nigga get high only on occasion and
My mind too wild
Damn thought weed supposed to calm you down
But I’m so high I could palm two clouds
Boy look, these niggas quote my lines like the Lord’s book
You niggas less rhymes more hooks
More bucks but less love
You hear them drums, Questlove
No Roots, I’m so truth
I used to rock sidelines like a coach suit
Had to look at all them loafers, yeah them boat shoes
Now I’m in the game but I won't boast to you dummy
Remember niggas had short jokes for my money
Toast to the honeys, money and the liquor
And bitch I don’t sound like any other nigga
With my finger on the trigger
I burn rappers like Henny on the liver
Grant death wishes like a genie I’m a killer
Lord giveth and he taketh like an Indian giver
Hard to keep jimmy in zipper
When you got them bad Aunt Vivians with ya
Remy and weed, I got em on Pluto
I prefer Henny but the hoes like Nuvo
[Verse 1: J. Cole]
It’s ya nigga, deep thinker, big drinker
Late night, with ya wife in ya crib sneaker
When you out of town, and you not around
Turn your ass over like a nigga stepped out of bounds
Crowd around young’n
I got ammo and a lot of rounds coming
Up in the streets where you not allowed, runnin’
Got the songs bitches ride around hummin’
And the niggas stay thumpin’
And the hater’s hate pumpin’
Got the 808′s bumpin’
So the trunks stay thumpin’
And the nigga get high only on occasion and
My mind too wild
Damn thought weed supposed to calm you down
But I’m so high I could palm two clouds
Boy look, these niggas quote my lines like the Lord’s book
You niggas less rhymes more hooks
More bucks but less love
You hear them drums, Questlove
No Roots, I’m so truth
I used to rock sidelines like a coach suit
Had to look at all them loafers, yeah them boat shoes
Now I’m in the game but I won't boast to you dummy
Remember niggas had short jokes for my money
Toast to the honeys, money and the liquor
And bitch I don’t sound like any other nigga
With my finger on the trigger
I burn rappers like Henny on the liver
Grant death wishes like a genie I’m a killer
Lord giveth and he taketh like an Indian giver
Hard to keep jimmy in zipper
When you got them bad Aunt Vivians with ya
Remy and weed, I got em on Pluto
I prefer Henny but the hoes like Nuvo
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