J. Cole – 95 South Lyrics

J. Cole The Off Season Album Lyrics Tracklist
J. Cole – The Off-Season Album Lyrics, Tracklist

95 South Lyrics by J. Cole

Killer, it’s The Off-Season
Let’s keep it tall, y’all ain’t fuckin’ with my man
And don’t check your watch, you know the time
Cole World, Killa Cam, niggas is fuckin’ finished (Yeah)

This shit too easy for me now
Nigga, Cole been goin’ plat’ since back when CDs was around
What you sold, I triple that, I can’t believe these fuckin’ clowns
Look how everybody clappin’ when your thirty-song album do a measly hundred thou’
If I’m bettin’ on myself, then I’ll completely double down
If you hated on a nigga, please don’t greet me with a pound
I be stayin’ out the way, but if the beef do come around
Could put a M right on your head, you Luigi brother now
Trace my steps all in this game, you could see we cover ground
Back and forth from NC to New York when Jeezy had the crown
Vivid memories, niggas start to squeeze, we duckin’ down

So many shells left on the ground, it make the Easter Bunny proud
I get up, dust my clothes off, sleep is the cousin of death
No plans to doze off, the streets, it don’t come with a ref
I never sold soft, just creeped where the hustlers crept
And got they O’s off, you reach, niggas uppin’ like Steph
To blow your nose off, gesunheit, and then resume flight
As if it never happened, shit we witnessed full of so much sickness
Angels sheddin’ tears in Heaven, word to Eric Clapton
Off this clever rapping, bitch, my pockets gon’ forever fatten

They gon’ forever fatten
See, we tried to tell niggas, they act like they don’t fuckin’ speak English
(Start, start, start)

Bitch, my pen to the paper’s lethal
I’m sendin’ ’em straight to meet the-
The nigga that made them peep the reaper
Creepin’ on ya, the scent of failure reakin’ on ya
Check your genitalia, pussy niggas bleedin’ on yourself
Fuckin’ with Cole is bold, but it’s impedin’ on your health
All your niggas eatin’ off your wealth
All my niggas feedin’ all theyselves, and it feels swell
Krispy Kreme dreams, sometimes my dawgs wanna kill 12 (Uh)
‘Cause they said they harassin’
We seen dilemmas like Nelly and Kelly
That end in the deadliest fashion
My young niggas nutty, they blastin’
Bullets be hummin’ like Cudi, but one of your hoodies Spaghetti-O splashin’
All over the driveway, y’all talkin’ all sideways
Shots poppin’ off y’all, laid down, cops choppin’ off y’all legs now
(Shit) God’s watchin’, “Hey, Yahweh”
My niggas looked up to the sky like we sendin’ it y’all way
We sendin’ it y’all way

That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ’bout
Y’all see what the fuck goin’ on out here
I-95 shit, Carolina, 2-6, stand up, nigga

Put your hood up
Put your hood up
Put your hood up
Put your clique up
Put your clique up
Put your clique up
Put your clique up

Represent your shit, motherfucker
Represent your shit, motherfucker
Represent your clique, motherfucker
Represent your clique, motherfucker
If you scared to throw it up, get the fuck out the club
If you scared to throw it up, get the fuck out the club

Written by J. Cole

 

J. Cole 95 South Lyrics

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