J. Cole - Dead Presidents lyrics

Give me my money, man, why else would a n***a be grinding? I’m for them diamonds, dog, how else could a n***a be shining? I’m glowing, knowing that the flow intact, Get this record deal, I swear to God, my first mil I’m blowing that Now, like f** it I know I’ll grow it back, sh**, it’s nothing, Funny how blacks spend their money on mad sh** for stuntin But sh**, that’s all we know man, thats how a n***as raised You learn bout two things: getting p**y, getting paid And you should be gettin laid by the time you in ninth grade, So n***as lying on they dick and hoes giving nice brain, yea. In cla** dreamin bout having these nice things And then you look around and wonder why you strugglin But them whites ain’t I brush it off like, “f** it, it’s motivation,” Some n***as gotta walk through life, some n***as roller skating Some n***as bypa**ing steps, some n***as chose to take ‘em And for that fortune, man, some n***as sold their soul to Satan, But f** it man, I ain’t hatin, I gotta go for mines. My little God-sister pregnant now, I put in overtime, On my grind, yea, just like the n***a making Fortunes, I’m focused, on my bite, like a cobra, I’m tryna get my Oprah on These hoes is crying cuz I won’t pay ‘em attention, Time is money, b**h, and a n***a payin tuition, Real n***as hustle by using their intuition, While these fake n***as ain’t into doing, they into wishin, Til I’m rich, ain’t no reason to settle n***a, It's greed that make a n***a wink at the devil to get that cheese, You n***as couldn’t think at my level, even with trees, You couldn’t get this deep with a shovel, now n***a, please, I’m chasing G’s tryna throw some diamonds on them freeze, Sick sh**, sneeze on some thousand-dollar sleeves. Ease to the top and I’m not finna leave til I’m hot, But my watch gotta breeze, a south n***a, Boy, I’m shining without the diamonds in my mouth, Out grindin while you reclining on your couch, I’m climbing, you haters blinded by the doubt, My n***as riding is devout, so talking violence out yo mouth, And you gonna find what I’m about, n***a Far from a slouch, n***a, I ain’t gonna parlé with y’all, I’ll probably hit ya, my hand game like Bobby Fisher, but check, them checks is all a n***a thinking, For them Presidents, I’ll treat a n***a like Lincoln