The Cure

Cole World, the new Nat King

If I ain't the illest nıgga, I'm his new vaccine

Really more like poison when his New Jack Swing

And my bed is like a deck of cards - two black queens

A nıgga don't like me, he just a fuccing hater

What you made last week, I just tipped the fuccing waiter

What that feel like? Tell me what that feel like?

Nıgga fucc your Twitter, bıtches follow me in real life

Welcome back, ladies and gentleman, to a brand new season. Dreamville, Cole World. So much has happened in our time apart

I can’t wait to share it with you all in due time. Did you miss me?

I know I missed you. Can’t believe these nıggas ain’t rap on this shıt man...

Heard nıggas got beef

Then they see me on the street, and don't speak

Heard nıggas dropping songs every week, but they weak

Yeah, I heard about your deal, hope they keep the receipt

Heard nıggas out there saying I would be Memphis Bleek

Well, how you feel when that nıgga got mills?

And you sitting, commenting, discussing on how you feel

Bout another nıgga shıt, or another nıgga chips

Meanwhile I’m on the strip, putt puttin’ wit ya bıtch

Cut something in the 6 then dip to 160

Bıtch don’t fucc with me, trust nıgga I’m sick

Can’t tag me, fucc nıgga I’m it—watch this

With my heart on my sleeve I bleed pardon my greed

I plead insanity, with a side of vanity

How can it be I blew up singlehandedly

Nobody handed me shıt

Granted though, I planned to be rich

Understandably, funny how I talk so candidly

On cameras but won’t holla at family only randomly

After a few drinks come our realest convos

My handle on my thoughts used to be as ill as Rondo’s

Screaming fucc whitey, forgetting I’m still mulatto

Ay reverend, will I get to heaven, he said “hell if I know,” shıt

Stay scheming, day dreaming, chain gleaming

Name should be Abe Lincoln ‘cause I cannot tell a lie though

All facts in fact, been all that

Before Kenan and Kel swallow the key to my cell

Which means, I got an impossible lock to pick

And if you want my spot, you gotta go through lots of shıt

Nıgga, Cole the truth, you the opposite

I be tryna figure out why I cannot commit

With who I’ve known for years, is it hoes or fear

Meanwhile she wonder if the one she chose is pure

No cure for the cold, rather Cole the cure

Them last lines was more honest than your whole career

Nıgga, you a phony, only got few homies

I prefer lonely, you rap nıggas don’t know me

Staying to myself, not concerned ‘bout my health

I’m a mothafucca and yo baby mother is a milf

Couple years ago they had a nıgga sitting on the shelf

Now they tell me “man you like the realest shıt I ever smelt”

They say, “Boy you got the belt"

"Plus you better than so-and-so!”

I keep it modest but inside I already know it though

Yea thanks my nıgga, yea thanks my nıgga

I deserve but nah this ain’t Tank my nıgga

Leave the party like I just robbed a bank my nıgga

Bag full of money, fucc yo debate my nıgga

‘Cause two years ago and I ain’t make it, I was pissed

But you care a little less about a list when you rich, nıgga

When you rich nıgga...

But that’s not what we came here for

We didn’t come here to brag

We didn’t come here to boast, to stunt. We just came here to flex

Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate your patience

I assure you, it’ll be well worth the wait

In the meantime, if I can get right back into it though. Check it...

How many Kanye beats do a nıgga gotta murder

To prove my mind’s further, hater nıgga converter

Took kids to Carowinds which I’m sure you never heard of

‘Cause I didn’t tell the news or the Fayetteville Observer

I don’t do it for the press, I’m blessed, I made it out

Sitting on this plane, my biggest thing to complain about

Somewhere between yesterday and now

I done lost my jewelry, Rollies, chains, almost lost my cool

But see, I just left kids who ain’t got a fuccing thing

‘Cept a lot of fuccing problems and a lot of fuccing pain

And here I go bıtching ‘cause my Jesus piece missing

Got a feeling housekeeping finally caught a nıgga slipping

Eyes wide open, they just found a pot of gold

Now lil’ Julio is somewhere shining on you hoes

But that’s how it goes, fucc it I’m still breathing

Like my lil’ nıgga Jaheim, we here for a reason

That’s my lil’ man Jaheim

He said, “Cole, can you shout me out on a song?”

I was like, “I don’t know man,”

but in my mind I knew I would shout him out though, you know—Fayettenam, 2-6

Dreamville. We from a different world. Cole World...