J. Cole - Middle Child

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(You good T-Minus?)

Niggas been counting me out

I’m counting my bullets, I’m loading my clips

I’m writing down names, I’m making a list

I’m checking it twice, and I’m getting them hit

The real ones been dying, 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 popping 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 praying I’d diss

They act like two legends cannot coexist 

But I’d never beef with a nigga for nothing

If I smoke a rapper it’s gone be legit

It won’t be for clout 

It won’t be for fame

It won’t be cause my shit ain’t selling the same

It won’t be to sell you my latest lil sneakers

It won’t be cause some niggas 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 thanking you now

Was watching you when you was paving the ground

I copied yo cadence, I mirrored yo style

I studied the greats, I’m the greatest right now

Fuck if you feel me, you ain’t gotta choice

I ain’t do no promo, still made all that noise

This year gone be different, I set my intentions

I promise to slap all that hate out your voice

Niggas been counting me out

I’m counting my bullets, I’m loading my clips

I’m writing down names, I’m making a list

I’m checking it twice, and I’m getting them hit

The real ones been dying, 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 something in my cup

I been wanting something I can feel

Promise I am never letting up

Money in your palm don’t make you real

Foot is on they neck, I got them stuck

Imma give them something they can feel

If it ain’t bout the squad, don’t give a fuck

Pistol in yo 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 faking just honest

I wish that he had more guidance forreal

Too many niggas in cycle of jail

Spending they birthdays inside of a cell

We coming from a long blood line 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

Imma make sure that the real gon’ prevail, nigga

I just poured something in my cup

I been wanting something I can feel

Promise I am never letting up

Money in your palm don’t make you real

Foot is on they neck, I got them stuck

Imma give them something they can feel

If it ain’t bout the squad, don’t give a fuck

Pistol in yo hand don’t make you real

Money in your palm don’t make you real

Pistol in yo hand don’t make you real

Money in your palm don’t make you real

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