Under The Sun

Album: Revenge of the Dreamers III (2019)
Charted: 44
  • (J. Cole)
    If you miss me
    And you can't find
    I done seen it all, my God
    I done seen it all, my God, I swear
    Uh, uh

    Nothing new under the sun, nobody fucking with son
    I got a couple of sons, a couple of guns
    A couple of niggas that bust up the party and fuck up the fun
    She digging me and I'm cuffing her friend
    She ig'-ing you while we fucking for fun
    I got her suckin' her thumb, that's my lil' baby
    She call me daddy like grandmama baby
    If this Sunday dinner, my hand on her gravy
    I been on the craziest wave, if I'm on the stage
    An M is my minimum wage
    This ain't no kennel, behave
    Niggas is with all that barking, we send 'em a stray
    So in a way we the dogcatchers
    How many bullets your dawg catchin'?
    Sawed-off, raw dog fashion
    Hauled off, hope God catch him, damn

    I woke up for some money, ayy, lil' bitch
    Too many opps in here, tell me who you with, ayy

    Potato over my gun
    I move in silence 'cause niggas be clocking my funds
    When they should keep eye on they bitch 'cause baby girl coming with son
    Niggas be judging my moves, but please tell me, what have you done?
    My cousin might air out the party for fun
    Pistol grips get to squeezing
    Wish a nigga would like Liam Neeson
    I don't even need a reason, loyalty over treason
    Bitch nigga, come and see me
    Put some respect on my name
    What side of my city I claim
    I try to stay in my lane
    Took my advance and put a cold piece on them thangs
    I'm Beatties Ford 'til the wheels fall
    Know some niggas probably pissed off
    Who would thought I made it this far?
    Gold Mouf, bitch, fuck 'em all

    I woke up for some money, ayy, lil' bitch
    Too many opps in here, tell me who you with

    I just put diamonds on all of my teeth, now they probably think I ain't intelligent
    In the homicide unit interrogation, asking questions, you know I ain't tell 'em shit
    Bitches call me a jock, all-American
    I'm at the top of my class with my letterman
    I remember back in college, bitches knocking on my dorm door
    I ain't never let 'em in
    Now you know that that's cap, know I hit a few
    Ain't no job, I'm selling gas like I'm Jiffy Lube
    I had a freak, used to fuck while her boyfriend in class
    I hit her from the back from like 10 to 2
    No back and forth with these rappers
    They mention me, dissin' me
    No talkin' back, I won't mention you
    Watch, when I come put that iron on your ass and I dip
    They gon' want me to snitch in my interviews
    I'm on fire, bitch, I'm lit, but I'm really cool
    Don't acknowledge the shrimps when they ridicule
    They don't come out after dark, bitch, I swim with the sharks
    You ain't got enough heart, get a bigger pool
    Wanna fight but he bigger, I ain't really trippin'
    I reach under my shirt, grab a bigger tool
    I got a Glock with a dick, let's get physical
    They gon' be hollerin' out, "Rip," and they missin' you
    They got me started, I might as well finish (Talk your shit, nigga)
    I'm from Charlotte, you know how these niggas do

    I woke up for some money, ayy, lil' bitch
    Too many opps in here, tell me who you with


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