Artist: J. Cole
Album: The Blow Up (Mixtape)
Genre: Hip Hop/Rap
[** Bonus Track:]
Yea, yea, yea, Dear Mrs. Bill Collector*
I know ya just doing your job, don't mean to disrespect ya
But we've been going through this thang since way back
I told ya when I get the dough I would pay back
But I got problems babayy... yea, if you only knew
I got bigger problems babbayyy
So why ya talkin about the money that I owe, like as if I didn't know man,
It don't mean nothing to me Cause right now I got my lil boy crying,
And my grandmother dying, could you please stop fuckin with me?
Listen here, I ain't lookin for no tears,
But my brother got a year, and my momma keep smoking that shit
On top of that, I'm broke, please put that in your notes
For the next one to call me up talking that shit
Hey, Dear Mr. Policeman
Hey am I wrong, ain't you suppose to keep the peace man?
I coulda swore I was driving pretty peaceful
So why the hell is you pullin over me fo'?
Is it this black Mercedez? (Oh now I get it, I get it, I get it)
Or cause I'm black? Hmmm, maybe
Hey, tell me why my hands start sweatin and I hold my breath everytime that you get behind me
I turn my music down, so you won't hear a sound, man I'm nervous like I got a couple pounds on me
You pulled me over, you frown on me
With your flashlight, tell me what do you see
Thug niggas, drug dealers, it's a trip, every nigga in this whip got a mothafuckin college degree
Yea, my middle finger to the law, bustin off, tryna touch the sky
My teacher said, "Impossible", but I'm a fuckin try
Plus how he gon' tell me, he don't make the rules
There's niggas dying everyday, but we don't make the news
Instead they talkin bout some thunderstorm, cyclones
Timmy got his bike stole, top story, Tiger Woods "be fuckin all these white hoes"
Anchorman stop snitchin
Cut the commercial, he be texting all the side bitches, hey my goodness
How ironic, on trial for possession of some chronic
My lawyer came to court, man he was higher than the comet
Hey your honor, is you kidding? How you sit above me?
Are you perfect mothafucker, how you finna judge me?
When you home you don't cuss, drink and puff like us
These cops is bad boys, baby just like Puff
They hate they jobs and they days be fucked up like us
At the end of the day, you niggas just like us
|1||Back To The Topic Freestyle|
|5||I Really Mean It|
|6||Show Me Something|
|8||On Top Of The World|
|10||Who's World Is This|
|12||Song For The Ville|
|14||Bun B For President|
|16||Knock On Wood|
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|J. Cole - The Blow Up (Mixtape) Album Lyrics|
|1.||Back To The Topic Freestyle|
|5.||I Really Mean It|
|6.||Show Me Something|
|8.||On Top Of The World|
|10.||Who's World Is This|
|12.||Song For The Ville|
|14.||Bun B For President|
|16.||Knock On Wood|
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