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J. Cole – 95 south Lyrics


[Intro: Cam’ron & J. Cole]

Killa, 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)

[Verse 1: J. Cole]

This shit too easy for me now

Nigga, Cole been goin’ plat’ since back when CDs was around

What you sold, I tripled 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

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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, gesundheit, 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 rappin’, bitch, my pockets gon’ forever fatten

[Interlude: J. Cole & Cam’ron]

They gon’ forever fatten

See, we tried to tell niggas

They act like they don’t even fuckin’ speak English

[Verse 2: J. Cole]

Bitch, my pen to the paper’s lethal

I’m sendin’ ’em straight to meet the

The nigga that made them, peep the reaper

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Creepin’ on ya, the scent of failure reekin’ on ya

Check your genitalia, pussy-niggas bleedin’ on yourself

Fuckin’ with Cole is bold, but it’s impedin’ on your health

All yo’ niggas eatin’ off your wealth

All my niggas 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 niggas 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

(Shit) God watchin’, “Hey, Yahweh”

My niggas looked up to the sky like we sendin’ ’em y’all way (Y’all way)

We sendin’ ’em y’all way (Y’all way)

[Outro: Cam’ron & Lil Jon]

That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ’bout

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Y’all see what the fuck goin’ on out here (Killa, Harlem)

I-95 shit, Carolina, 2-6, stand up, nigga

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 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

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