J. Cole Freestyle | LA Leakers Freestyle #108 lyrics

Part I: "'93 'Til Infinity" by Souls of Mischief

[Intro]
Yeah

[Verse: J. Cole & Justin Credible]
Rest assured, the best is here in the flesh, and that's for sure
The rest, should wear 'em a vest
I'm set for war, n*gga, press record
I send n*ggas to address the Lord
Same flow that put your neck to sword, the same flow that just undressed your whore
Takeover, n*gga, check the score
This is chess, better check your board
Who gave the world more fire, but got less reward?
No stress, my only guess is that less is more
More or less hundred G's in my dresser drawer (Woo!)
I'm blessed, hope IRS don't arrest me for it, I'm new to it
My new crib got the Times Square view to it
My two b*tches lay in my bed, I'm used to it
That's your best friend givin' me head, now you do it (Haha, woo!)
See, mami, it's not so weird
After I hit, I cut you off like Picasso ear
Van Gogh or whoever, goddamn, Cole, you're too clever
Like a f*ckin' James Brown sample, you're two-ever
Times two, that's forever, more treble
Meanin' more high-end sh*t on your level (Yes!)
Put the fear of God in n*ggas, I'm pure Devil
Walkin' contradiction my description
Off the top, magician, compositions
Nonfiction, sh*tted in the competition's
Pot to p*ss in, gone, uh, so long, uh
Saturdays, a n*gga used to mow lawns, uh
Nowadays, a n*gga be eatin' prawns
f*ck my b*tch by the window, wave to the peepin' Toms, ugh
Yes, I'm Carolina's finest (Yeah)
Southern n*gga with New York stamps, honest
Out in Queens with the fiends, I'm your highness
Cole World, don't mistake it for a sinus
Infection, at this point, I'm just flexin'
Bas is next in line, and the test is time
Play the game right, n*gga, he gon' rest his mom
In the sands of Sudan where she rest her mind
And find peace, 'cause her son'll be fine
He got the city on his back, and I got him on mine (Come on)
You think I'm lyin'? sh*t, step one, got the 'Ville on map
sh*t I predicted in my raps, I done did all that (Yes)
Next please, eat rappers, mmm, check please
Here's a tip while n*ggas grip my testes
You wan' shoot? Then shoot, don't play with me
Hardest sh*t out the South since slavery, n*gga
[Outro: Justin Credible & J. Cole]
Talk that talk!
Hardest sh*t out the South since slavery, n*gga
J. Cole!

Part II: "Still Tippin'" by Mike Jones

[Intro: DJ SoulMalik & J. Cole]
You rappin'
You rappin' today, man
Understatement
You f*cking with this right here?
Eeesh! Classic
Classic sh*t only, man
It's a classic, oh, my Gosh
L.A. Leakers
J. Cole
Ugh

[Verse]
Woke up this morning and wondered
"Hey, should I get fresh or should I keep it humble?"
My closet like Dover Street, used to be bummin'
Some days, I'm still bummin', the difference is now, it's by choice
Got dressed and peeped out the window
These lil' n*ggas different, they don't play Nintendo
They play with extendos, I hope you can limbo
That chopper gon' spin you around like a judge on The Voice
I'm from a city where most n*ggas never get lucky enough to see somethin' outside county limits
I ran up the digits, I don't have no muh'f*ckin' business complainin' about nothin'
Ain't got no time or no patience for lists they be makin' or who they debatin' is better
Let's face it, he one of the greatest, no Bill Cosby sh*t, but if n*ggas is sleepin', then f*ck 'em (That's right, that's right!)
Most n*ggas don't understand me, I don't do the GRAMMY's, I be in my jammies on sofa
Most n*ggas don't understand me, Ferrari or Camry, I bet I look good in 'em both (Hoo, hoo!)
Most n*ggas don't even get this, "Cole, how you on top but you don't got no b*tches?" I know
Most n*ggas don't even get this, if given the chance, they trade family for riches, I know
Look at my ceilin', it's endless, I'm sick and these b*tch n*ggas feelin' the symptoms
It ain't enough vitamin C in they system to get rid of me, I'ma kill 'em relentless
On top, I sound like I'm still in the trenches, I come from the 'Ville, I turn villains to victims
Reach and see "R.I.P." fill up your mentions, a message for n*ggas that's feelin' ambitious
[Outro: J. Cole]
How come a n*gga still ain't hit his prime?
Ahh, you b*tch, Off-Season comin' May 14th
f*ck all y'all n*ggas, it's over for you
I swear to God