J. Cole
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H.Y.B. (Feat. Bas & Central Cee)

J. Cole


Listen, baby
I've got news
I've got bad news for you

And we ball like TNT, watch these hoes all pick a side
Bitches flock like TMZ every time we come outside
Call a Uber, SUV, how many gon fit inside?
Yeah, hide your bitch, hide your wife
Yeah, bagged your bitch in my slide, yeah
Pray the dogs never die, yeah
Forty two come alive, yeah
Hide your bitch, hide your wife

I'm allergic to cap
I can't hear these niggas rap without an EpiPen
You'll never see me in Giuseppe
I find that tacky, look what I'm steppin' in
Some shit I designed by Italians, callin' 'em Indy 5000's
Or maybe five hundred
I kick the door down
if I want it and niggas won't let me in (Uh)
My career runnin' up this year
all these bums never did nothin' but fail
They gon' see I'm the one when the dust settles
They gon' see I'm the one
A-B-C-D-E-F-G, H-I-J-K, M-N-O-P
That's little me in the classroom askin': What's L?
I never been known to take those
Your girl saw me and her face froze
You better be lucky I'm faithful
Please test me, I ace those
My money been growin' like eight fold
But you know how I hate goals
I can't tell if they turning green
from the envy, or is it the fake gold?
I move through the street one deep
I keep forgettin' I'm J. Cole
I feel like a regular nigga
I just got a very irregular bankroll
Word to Puma, I've been gettin' Pesos
My account like the end of a rainbow
Every time that I spit it's a flame throw
Me bas and cench, it's NATO

And we ball like TNT, watch these hoes all pick a side
Bitches flock like TMZ every time we come outside
Call a Uber, SUV, how many gon fit inside?
Yeah, hide your bitch, hide your wife
Yeah, bagged your bitch in my slide, yeah
Pray the dogs never die, yeah
Forty two come alive, yeah
Hide your bitch, hide your wife

Lord forgive me as I'm a sinner
The way that I live, I'm preparing for hell
I don't know why you're mad, you should probably thank me
'Cause I been airing your girl
If I get some top, we can take the chase
cuh we know the area well
Thank God I'm not far off a hundred M's
I gotta thank Ron Perry as well
I don't even know why they stepped in the ring
A few seconds in and they throwing the towel in
When we pull into town, neighbours sayin'
How the hell they get them houses?
Now I'm in some different locations
I don't even know how to pronounce them
Award shows, I bring my pouch in
I ain't even pullin' out my
I can't get patted by TMZ, tryna fit four tings in the G-63
I'ma give one ting to my bro YG
I'm handle the rest and jeet all three
The back so big, we all gassed up
how the fuck did she fit in them Diesel jeans?
I can't compete 'cause they ain't in my league
Oh please, ain't even equal beef
At least hit man in the abdominal, bro
it don't even count if below the knee
Block life, chillin' with a horrible hoe
she gonna get down and blow the team
Me and the guys was borrowing clothes
like bro, let me hold that coat this week
Now it's after hours, I've shutdown Harrods
I bring out the AmEx and go on a spree

And we ball like TNT, watch these hoes all pick a side
Bitches flock like TMZ every time we come outside
Call a Uber, SUV, how many gon fit inside?
Yeah, hide your bitch, hide your wife
Yeah, bagged your bitch in my slide, yeah
Pray the dogs never die, yeah
Forty two come alive, yeah
Hide your bitch, hide your wife
Compositores: Abbas Hamad, Jermaine L Cole (BMI), Michael Holmes (Dzl) (SOCAN), Oakley Neil H Caesar Su (Oakley Ceaser Su) (PRS), Tyler Mathew Carl Williams (SOCAN)Editores: Brother Bagz Publishing (BMI), Warner-tamerlane Publishing Co (BMI)Administração: Warner-tamerlane Publishing Co (BMI)ECAD verificado obra #43503425 em 02/Jun/2024 com dados da UBEM

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