J. Cole - 9 5 . s o u t h lyrics

[Cam'ron (J. Cole):] Killa, it's The Off-Season Let's keep it tall, y'all ain't fu*kin' with my man And don't check your watch, you know the time Cole World, Killa Cam', ni**as is fu*kin' finished (Yeah) [J. Cole:] This sh*t too easy for me now ni**a, Cole been goin' plat' since back when CDs was around What you sold, I tripled that, I can't believe these fu*kin' 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 ni**a, 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, ni**as 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, ni**as uppin' like Steph To blow your nose off, gesundheit, and then resume flight As if it never happened, sh*t we witnessed full of so much sickness Angels sheddin' tears in Heaven, word to Eric Clapton Off this clever rapping, b*tch, my pockets gon' forever fatten They gon' forever fatten [Cam'ron:] See, we tried to tell ni**as They act like they don't even fu*kin' speak English [J. Cole:] b*tch, my pen to the paper's lethal I'm sendin' 'em straight to meet the The ni**a that made them peep the reaper Creepin' on ya, the scent of failure reekin' on ya Check your genitalia, pussy-ni**as bleedin' on yourself fu*kin' with Cole is bold, but it's impedin' on your health All yo' ni**as eatin' off your wealth All my ni**as feedin' all they selves, and it feels swell Krispy Kreme dreams, sometime my dawgs wanna kill twelve (Uh) 'Cause they steady harassin' We seen dilemmas like Nelly and Kelly that end in the deadliest fashion My young ni**as nutty, they blastin' Bullets be hummin' like Cudi but one of yo' hoodies Spaghetti-O splashin' All over the driveway, y'all talkin' all sideways Shots poppin' off, y'all laid down Cops chalkin' off y'all legs now (sh*t) God watchin', "Hey, Yahweh" My ni**as looked up to the sky like we sendin' it y'all way (Y'all way) We sendin' it y'all way (Y'all way) [Cam'ron:] That's what the fu*k I'm talkin' 'bout Y'all see what the fu*k goin' on out here (Killa, Harlem) I-95 sh*t, Carolina, 2-6, stand up, ni**a [Lil Jon:] Put your hood up 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 sh*t, motherfu*ker Represent your sh*t, motherfu*ker Represent your clique, motherfu*ker Represent your clique, motherfu*ker If you scared to throw it up, get the fu*k out the club If you scared to throw it up, get the fu*k out the club