Blow for Blow (feat. J. Cole)

(Yo, Pi'erre, you wanna come out here?) Uh

Blow for blow, Cole flow just prestigious
Sweats and tees, no unnecessary accessories, the GOAT just from features
Proceed with throat-cut procedures
He look rich, but he broke, just egregious
Don't trust rappers, ho, trust in Jesus
Whole team approach Costa Rica
And coast on boats, gettin' throat from top models
They pop shit, my clique pop bottles

I sip orange juice in the VIP, watchin' the clock tick
Perform a couple of hits and then I dip
Six figures richer than when I entered
Cole world, Mr. I Got a Temper
I stay hot, doin' numbers like K-Pop
BTS in the flesh while they flop
And I laugh all the way to the Deutsche Bank
Stay the fuck out my lane, avoid the paint
I'm really him, Bruce Jenner, boy just ain't

I'm boisterous, loud boos for crews from mad voices
It's like your team's makin' the choice to take
L after L, I got to laugh
Y'all look like James Todd Smith autograph
Maybe that's why your bitch dropped the math
Go against the squad and get chopped in half

Now, who hot? Who not? (Who?)
Tell me, who flopped? Who sells out the tours? (Me)
Who rap with trap niggas that wet up your doors?
Who go harder than them and never let off before? (Me)
Who got your whore pokin' her head out the door?
Gettin' paid every week like he did all his chores (me)
Life's a bitch, I'm rich 'til I divorce (yeah)
If the shit go left, I'm pullin' bread out the floor (GG)

Okay, chain nastier than cow manure
Bust down my shooter, saw more wires than a bomb defuser
Take a jet to the jungle, was healin' my soul
I'm done seen my niggas froze, filled up with embalmin' fluid
I still did numbers in this game (I did)
Only thing changed is the tail numbers on the plane (jet)
Retired drug dealer, bust chain, watch plain
I don't do drugs, but, baby, I don't judge, do your thing (that's all you)

I'm a king, you won't see me drop no tears (uh-uh)
Back-to-back white coupes, bitch, it's lookin' like veneers (white)
Came in this game thinkin' niggas was my peers
Shit, damn near broke my heart
I ain't know they was that weird (lame-ass niggas)
Niggas give you they word, they be breakin' that so easily (damn)
We can't do that in streets 'cause eventually, you're seein' me (what's up?)
That's why I be in the crib, gamin' on DND
'Cause you can't play with me and I not let you see the beast in me (fuck)

Cole say in Fayetteville they go, "Ay, ay, ay" (what up?)
Fact he fuck me with me like that, it makes up for them rainy days (no cap)
Can't be on the court, NBA coach'll take my game away (which one?)
Catch you on that freeway, we're reenacting Training Day
You hear me? Who ain't rockin' with me?
Tell 'em to start from zero, then make it out of the D (go do that)
Remember bein' young, seein' pops rockin' up kis (bricks)
Saw bodies on streets, now I'm tryna put bodies in seats (let's go on tour)

You hear me? Hold up, who ain't rockin' with me? (Who?)
Tell 'em to play with they live, fumble they college degree (go do that)
Tell 'em to face all that time and still be solid as me (go do that)
Do years in prison and drop a hit the day I release (go do that, nigga)
You hear me? Ay, Unc', I got ahead of them niggas
I should've listened, I turned back and tried to rescue them niggas (should've listened)
Sick you started hatin' 'cause I got ahead of you, nigga (bitch)
I ain't trippin', that shit ain't gon' stop this cheddar, my nigga, you hear me? (G7)

Now, who hot? Who not? (Yeah)
Tell me, who flopped? Who sells out the tours? (Me)
Who raps with trap niggas that wet up your doors?
Who go harder than them and never let off before? (Me)
Who got your whore pokin' her head out the door?
Gettin' paid every week like he did all his chores (me)
Life's a bitch, I'm rich 'til I divorce (yeah)
If the shit go left, I'm pullin' bread out the floor

Now, who hot? Who not? (Yeah)
Tell me, who flopped? Who sells out the tours? (Me)
Who raps with trap niggas that wet up your doors?
Who go harder than them and never let off before? (Me)
Who got your whore pokin' her head out the door?
Gettin' paid every week like he did all his chores (me)
Life's a bitch, I'm rich 'til I divorce (yeah)
If the shit go left, I'm pullin' bread out the floor



Credits
Writer(s): Sean J. Combs, Bernard Edwards, Christopher Wallace, Nile Rodgers, Mason Betha, Jermaine L. Cole, Terry Sanchez Wallace, Pi'erre Bourne, Steve Jordan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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