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      Middle Child

      Middle Child

      J. Cole

      Escuchar lo mejor de la musica de J. Cole

      J. Cole - Middle Child Música y Letra

      You good, T-Minus?
      
      Niggas been countin' me out
      I’m countin' my bullets, I'm loadin’ my clips
      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
      
      I'm all in my bag, this hard as it get
      I do not snort powder, I might take a sip
      I might hit the blunt, but I'm liable to trip
      I ain’t poppin' no pill, but you do as you wish
      I roll with some fiends, I love 'em to death
      I got a few mil' but not all of them rich
      What good is the bread if my niggas is broke?
      What good is first class if my niggas can't sit?
      That's my next mission, that's why I can't quit
      Just like LeBron, get my niggas more chips
      Just put the Rollie right back on my wrist
      This watch came from Drizzy, he gave me a gift
      Back when the rap game was prayin' I'd diss
      They act like two legends cannot coexist
      But I'd never beef with a nigga for nothin'
      If I smoke a rapper, it's gon' be legit
      It won't be for clout, it won't be for fame
      It won't be 'cause my shit ain't sellin' the same
      It won't be to sell you my latest lil' sneakers
      It won't be 'cause some nigga slid in my lane
      Everything grows, it's destined to change
      I love you lil' niggas, I'm glad that you came
      I hope that you scrape every dollar you can
      I hope you know money won't erase the pain
      To the OGs, I'm thankin' you now
      Was watchin' you when you was pavin' the ground
      I copied your cadence, I mirrored your style
      I studied the greats, I'm the greatest right now
      Fuck if you feel me, you ain't got a choice
      Now I ain't do no promo, still made all that noise
      This year gon' be different, I set my intentions
      I promise to slap all that hate out your voice
      
      Niggas been countin' me out
      I'm countin' my bullets, I'm loadin' my clips
      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
      
      I just poured somethin' in my cup
      I've been wantin' somethin' I can feel
      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
      
      I'm dead in the middle of two generations
      I'm little bro and big bro all at once
      Just left the lab with young 21 Savage
      I'm 'bout to go and meet Jigga for lunch
      Had a long talk with the young nigga Kodak
      Reminded me of young niggas from 'Ville
      Straight out the projects, no fakin', just honest
      I wish that he had more guidance, for real
      Too many niggas in cycle of jail
      Spending they birthdays inside of a cell
      We coming from a long bloodline of trauma
      We raised by our mamas, Lord we gotta heal
      We hurting our sisters, the babies as well
      We killing our brothers, they poisoned the well
      Distorted self image, we set up to fail
      I'ma make sure that the real gon' prevail, nigga
      
      I just poured somethin' in my cup
      I've been wantin' somethin' I can feel
      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

      J. Cole - Middle Child Música y Letra

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