| What I need with ten cars? I can’t drive but one |
| This for my niggas listening in 3001 |
| As I’m writin' through this song, this world’s gone insane |
| I know you feel me 'cause I bet that shit still ain’t changed |
| I’m on a mission for this chicken, I’ma kill everything |
| I’m stackin' for a rainy day and it still ain’t rained |
| Why niggas never open up? The answer had me chokin' up |
| It ain’t enough words around to reveal they pain |
| I’m holdin' on tight to what it feel like to live a peaceful life |
| Since ridin' a bike, all that I ever knew was beef and strife |
| Goin' to sleep at night, prayin' that God release the stress |
| Now I’m on G4 jets across the seas to decompress |
| My recent checks, how much you think? Hm, decent guess |
| They growin' more eager, «Cole, who you gon' kill on a feature next?» |
| Who would you suggest? My nigga just told me the streets a myth |
| And he’s perplexed, they tellin' on people like the teacher’s pet |
| He took a pull of his weed, he high as the trees where eagles nest |
| I started chiefin' less and less, it had my cerebral vexed |
| Too many blessings to be depressed |
| Went from too stressed to being blessed |
| Now, my new recipe’s just keep that fuck shit from my desk |
| I don’t want shit but my breath, I don’t want shit but my fam' |
| Thought I used superglue, nigga, how this gun stick to my hand |
| I don’t even tote no pistol, but that shit sounded so hard |
| Plus, I don’t give a fuck about lyin' once I learned these niggas fraud |
| I’m finna burn these niggas, dawg |
| Bring me that urn-ee, nigga, char |
| Cole, I’ma send 'em to crossroads with the lost souls |
| I saw Nia Long quote |
| I would’ve poked, back when my heart cold |
| Give her three or four strokes |
| Then I’m onto the next, shit like a par four |
| I’m a raw-ass nigga, 6'4″, tall-ass nigga |
| With a sick flow, y’all ask Jigga |
| How much did the kid gross for that label |
| Paid dues, had to pay dude for my masters, but I’m grateful |
| Shit, business is business |
| I’m in the Ville, the windows is tinted |
| Keeping my dick in my britches, y’all get to the bitches |
| Me, I’ma get to this money and split with the missus |
| Nigga, this vicious, and I’m the truth |
| All of these niggas fictitious |
| Look at Jermaine, still runnin' the game |
| Damn, this physical fitness |
| Fuck with me, man |
| What I need with ten cars? I can’t drive but one |
| This for my niggas listening in 3001 |
| As I’m writin' through this song, this world’s gone insane |
| I know you feel me 'cause I bet that shit still ain’t changed |
| I’m on a mission for this chicken, I’ma kill everything |
| I’m stackin' for a rainy day and it still ain’t rained |
| Why niggas never open up? The answer had me chokin' up |
| It ain’t enough words around to reveal they pain |