Released: June 15, 2009
Songwriter: J. Cole
Producer: Kanye West
[Intro]
"That was the warm up, that was the warm up, baby
Aight, Elite, for real, one take, dawg, and I'm up outta here
One, yup, yeah."
[Verse]
Lord, please forgive me for my sinning
I ain’t saying that I’m finished, but I’m praying in advance
Cause the way her eyes glance like they playing in my pants
Yeah, ball game
I swear the hoes wasn’t in my plans when a nigga took the chance and came to the big city
My beat machine the only fucking thing I had with me
Like Bobby had Whitney, we was cooking up crack
But them fifteen credits had a nigga off track
Picture that, best rapper since Lil Wayne in classes
The best bachelor since Bruce Wayne with his bachelor’s
But mastered this rap shit
You hear the words coming from my lips bastards
I never crack, I got that Chapstick
I practiced till that shit made perfect and served it to the people on a silver platter
Now where’s the ladder?
Cause either you gonna whine or you climb; I chose the latter
Know you haters is pissed, hold your bladder though
‘Fore you get tossed like a forward lateral
We never tattle, let God handle that
Or let the mob handle that
No Soprano, half black, half white; I’m a piano
I’m an animal, my video on Discovery Channel
I’m a beast when my shit hits the streets, these niggas cease to exist
Like a beach in a tsunami, you'll find me in the ‘Ville
In the state of NC
Bitch, if I ain’t back home, I’m up in NYC
‘Bout that money prob-ly like a fucking robbery
But I ain’t jacking
I’m chasing dreams sort of like jeans, boy, I ain’t slacking
I’m chasing dreams sort of like jeans, boy, I ain’t slacking
Hey, take a hard look at my drive nigga, no hacking on my shit
I’m straight smacking niggas, straight tagging niggas
Yo, I freestyle and fuck you niggas, ya’ll be wilding and I’m out
"That was the warm up, that was the warm up, baby
Aight, Elite, for real, one take, dawg, and I'm up outta here
One, yup, yeah."
[Verse]
Lord, please forgive me for my sinning
I ain’t saying that I’m finished, but I’m praying in advance
Cause the way her eyes glance like they playing in my pants
Yeah, ball game
I swear the hoes wasn’t in my plans when a nigga took the chance and came to the big city
My beat machine the only fucking thing I had with me
Like Bobby had Whitney, we was cooking up crack
But them fifteen credits had a nigga off track
Picture that, best rapper since Lil Wayne in classes
The best bachelor since Bruce Wayne with his bachelor’s
But mastered this rap shit
You hear the words coming from my lips bastards
I never crack, I got that Chapstick
I practiced till that shit made perfect and served it to the people on a silver platter
Now where’s the ladder?
Cause either you gonna whine or you climb; I chose the latter
Know you haters is pissed, hold your bladder though
‘Fore you get tossed like a forward lateral
We never tattle, let God handle that
Or let the mob handle that
No Soprano, half black, half white; I’m a piano
I’m an animal, my video on Discovery Channel
I’m a beast when my shit hits the streets, these niggas cease to exist
Like a beach in a tsunami, you'll find me in the ‘Ville
In the state of NC
Bitch, if I ain’t back home, I’m up in NYC
‘Bout that money prob-ly like a fucking robbery
But I ain’t jacking
I’m chasing dreams sort of like jeans, boy, I ain’t slacking
I’m chasing dreams sort of like jeans, boy, I ain’t slacking
Hey, take a hard look at my drive nigga, no hacking on my shit
I’m straight smacking niggas, straight tagging niggas
Yo, I freestyle and fuck you niggas, ya’ll be wilding and I’m out