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Dead Presidents II

J. Cole

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Dead Presidents II

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Yea FayettenamUh, these niggas is playing Russian roulettewith a full clip, foolishMy crew is foolless naw we don't danceall we do is stay two steps aheadMake the hoes get looselike a noose neck-Instead while these dudes beg for headThey got the game twisted, heavy traffic in this rap shitLook how my lane shiftedelevated my game, lifted my nameNow these lame niggas could never get itLike that bad bitch you wanted but could never hit itClever with it, my flow like a devil spit it and heaven sent itSo high if I dropped I would fall for 11 minutesSo yea, I operate on a higher plainmy thoughts take a higher trainIt's dope, then you should know the suppliers nameIt's J. Cole, set of horns and a haloAnd all these hoes [?] wanna text-us like WacoIt's hard to remain faithful niggas be throwing hateYo I'm in a league of my ownso what the fuck would I play for!Some next niggas almost slide in but didn't fit inNaw I ain't Maury Povich but who the fuck is you kid-in?These big weight niggas throwing their bid inTry not to show stressI guess the flow is protested like a sit inI told my niggas we would get inBut that ain't even half the battleStay behind like a shadowOr you catapultNot if I had a ladder or not even if I had a ropeId climb that motherfucker to the top and never let it go!(I'm out for presidents to represent me nigga!)I out or president to represent me, yea!I'm out for dead fuckin presidents to represent me!The warm up!Yea, the warm up! -yea the warm up(This is, the warm up!)Ay, look heaven or hell you chooseFreedom or jail, you loseI can't stop em as hot as the devils shoesOvercame a low life status to blow like GladysAhead of my time like I live my whole life backwardsI'm nothing like these hoe-like rappersMy whole life practice to be the oneWhat's it like to be LebronThey calling you the saviour, so much pressurebut you deal with itThe weight of the world on your shoulders but you still lift itI'll with it for real, lil nigga from Ville that real niggas can feelNobody taught us how to cook still niggas a grillNo Foreman, try not to call them ladies Bsbut them hoes swarminNow honey, Ay is it destiny or is it money your feelinHeard rumors of a deal and now you thinkin a millionPardon my paranoid mindbut I'm starin in the mirror livin in fearthat things a never be the sameNo one left for me to blame but myself cause I asked for thisHeaded for fame but in my brain, hey can I last in this?Ay five years I'll probably laugh at thisTry not to let it wear me out like a bad bitchwith fashion senseI keep it fresh while these whack niggas rehash and shitJackin styles you know, ski mask and shitI pass these niggas, they trynna do ithow these other niggas did itI'm trynna live it how no other niggas ever lived it!(I'm out for presidents to represent me nigga!)I out or president to represent me, yea!I'm out for dead fuckin presidents to represent me!The warm up!Yea, the warm up! -yea the warm up(This is, the warm up!)I'm out for fucking presidents to represent me!I'm out for fucking presidents to represent me!I'm out for fucking presidents to represent me!Dead fucking presidents to represent me!The warm up!Yea, yea yea yea yea yea! the warm up!yea yea yea yea the warm up hey!Fayattenaam! nigga yea! Carolina all day!Yea!
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