Goin Off

J. Cole

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    Fuck it
    Ay
    Do or Die, new arrival
    Holla at my niggas
    You survive you's alive, yo
    Now either you follow me and ride, or you's a rival
    The difference between you and I is you a model, you posing
    But who am I though?
    The mulatto out for that lotto
    Money coming soon, the newest model
    Your crew is hollow
    The type of niggas got more dick, chew and swallow
    Your girl told me shoot in her face, she suicidal
    Oh shucks, you niggas is closed, you fold up
    I'm from the Ville, niggas get killed over four bucks
    Thank God we made it, my niggas, we grown up
    Now we crazy over that bread, call us the "dough-nuts" uh
    More sluts once the money blows up
    But them hoes stop if the dough drops
    I won't stop though, a chip off the 'ol block
    I'm from a city where niggas hole blocks
    Leave you looking like old socks, damn
    Cops patrol blocks, spotting on us
    The boys is rotten, I know they want us
    Probably arrest a nigga, get a bonus
    You kill a nigga, get promoted
    Shit is crazy, girls getting babies before they get diplomas
    So much I just go nuts
    Niggas telling me slow up
    Remember that
    I'm tryna get where that cheddar at
    Y'all don't hear me
    Always somebody that don't want you getting cheese, yo
    This whole bullshit is like Tom and Jerry
    I'm kinda very raw, niggas can't deny facts
    If you black they sending you to jail or Iraq
    Honor is something you can't sell or buy back
    Niggas don't like bragging, they 9-11 fly cats
    Hijack niggas, "Get up out your whip nigga, strip!
    I want it all- ice on your wrists and the kicks, "
    This shit happens, I ain't just rapping, believe it yo
    They got streets in the city police won't even go
    Peep it though, uh
    It ain't no secret, niggas beefing cause my ego so big
    It got me speaking like I'm diesel, like I'm devil, oh
    Niggas know my stylo, I ain't tweaking, I am lethal though
    Have your daddy looking for you
    This ain't Finding Nemo though
    Let me slow it down, dumb it down, y'all warned
    The son came up out that womb, yo, a star is born
    If real recognize real, y'all are foreign
    My team run a play on your bitch and we all scoring, yea!

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    Song details

    Composition: David Camon and J Cole

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