Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 9 5 . s o u t h, artist - J. Cole. Date of issue: 13.05.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
9 5 . s o u t h |
| 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) |
| 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 |
| 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 |
| They gon' forever fatten |
| See, we tried to tell niggas |
| They act like they don’t even fuckin' speak English |
| Bitch, my pen to the paper’s lethal |
| I’m sendin' 'em straight to meet the |
| The nigga that made them, peep the reaper |
| 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 12 (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) |
| That’s what the fuck I’m talkin' 'bout |
| 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 |