| Niggas been countin' me out
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| I’m countin' my bullets, I’m loadin' my clips
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| I’m writin' down names, I’m makin' a list
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| I’m checkin' it twice and I’m gettin' 'em hit
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| The real ones been dyin', the fake ones is lit
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| The game is off balance, I’m back on my shit
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| The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty
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| But that’s how I like it, you all on my dick
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| I’m all in my bag, this hard as it get
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| I do not snort powder, I might take a sip
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| I might hit the blunt, but I’m liable to trip
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| I ain’t poppin' no pill, but you do as you wish
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| I roll with some fiends, I love 'em to death
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| I got a few mil' but not all of them rich
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| What good is the bread if my niggas is broke?
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| What good is first class if my niggas can’t sit?
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| That’s my next mission, that’s why I can’t quit
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| Just like LeBron, get my niggas more chips
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| Just put the Rollie right back on my wrist
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| This watch came from Drizzy, he gave me a gift
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| Back when the rap game was prayin' I’d diss
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| They act like two legends cannot coexist
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| But I’d never beef with a nigga for nothin'
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| If I smoke a rapper, it’s gon' be legit
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| It won’t be for clout, it won’t be for fame
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| It won’t be 'cause my shit ain’t sellin' the same
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| It won’t be to sell you my latest lil' sneakers
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| It won’t be 'cause some nigga slid in my lane
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| Everything grows, it’s destined to change
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| I love you lil' niggas, I’m glad that you came
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| I hope that you scrape every dollar you can
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| I hope you know money won’t erase the pain
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| To the OGs, I’m thankin' you now
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| Was watchin' you when you was pavin' the ground
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| I copied your cadence, I mirrored your style
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| I studied the greats, I’m the greatest right now
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| Fuck if you feel me, you ain’t got a choice
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| I ain’t do no promo, still made all that noise
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| This year gon' be different, I set my intentions
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| I promise to slap all that hate out your voice
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| Niggas been countin' me out
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| I’m countin' my bullets, I’m loadin' my clips
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| I’m writin' down names, I’m makin' a list
|
| I’m checkin' it twice and I’m gettin' 'em hit
|
| The real ones been dyin', the fake ones is lit
|
| The game is off balance, I’m back on my shit
|
| The Bentley is dirty, my sneakers is dirty
|
| But that’s how I like it, you all on my dick
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| I just poured somethin' in my cup
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| I’ve been wantin' somethin' I can feel
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| Promise I am never lettin' up
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| Money in your palm don’t make you real
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| Foot is on they neck, I got 'em stuck
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| I’ma give 'em somethin' they can feel
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| If it ain’t 'bout the squad, don’t give a fuck
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| Pistol in your hand don’t make you real
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| I’m dead in the middle of two generations
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| I’m little bro and big bro all at once
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| Just left the lab with young 21 Savage
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| I’m 'bout to go and meet Jigga for lunch
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| Had a long talk with the young nigga Kodak
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| Reminded me of young niggas from 'Ville
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| Straight out the projects, no fakin', just honest
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| I wish that he had more guidance, for real
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| Too many niggas in cycle of jail
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| Spending they birthdays inside of a cell
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| We coming from a long bloodline of trauma
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| We raised by our mamas, Lord, we gotta heal
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| We hurting our sisters, the babies as well
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| We killing our brothers, they poisoned the well
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| Distorted self-image, we set up to fail
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| I’ma make sure that the real gon' prevail, nigga
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| I just poured somethin' in my cup
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| I’ve been wantin' somethin' I can feel
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| Promise I am never lettin' up
|
| Money in your palm don’t make you real
|
| Foot is on they neck, I got 'em stuck
|
| I’ma give 'em somethin' they can feel
|
| If it ain’t 'bout the squad, don’t give a fuck
|
| Pistol in your hand don’t make you real
|
| Money in your palm don’t make you real
|
| Pistol in your hand don’t make you real
|
| Money in your palm don’t make you real |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song MIDDLE CHILD, artist - J. Cole. Album song Revenge Of The Dreamers III: Director's Cut, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп