J. Cole – Album of the Year (Freestyle) Lyrics



Not really
This is not the eighties, don’t be silly
Now we push pills and sell heroin to Billy
Now Billy momma want the judge to pardon his addiction
How many black addicts that got caught up in the system
With no sob stories on your prime time television, I can smell a blatant contradiction
Man, listen
Don’t want to fuck up my vibe
Let’s end it on a positive note, come see me live
KOD, album of the year, undebatably
My cadence be the greatest we’ve seen since the late MC who’s name was The Notorious
Dreamville stacked like the Warriors
Winning back to back
Next up to bat is my nigga Bas
After that Jiddy-J.I.D
That’s that New York City kid plus ATL
Me, I’m from the ‘Ville but I know them towns well
Before I had a deal I was givin’ niggas hell
Now I’m givin’ niggas deals and they givin’ niggas hell I am only part human, half-man, half-amazing
Plus I’m good at math like I’m Asian
Hate to use stereotypes, but that’s light compared to what a nigga get from Caucasians
No race-baitin’—treat the beat like Playstation
Reporting to you live from the International Space Station
I probably vacation on Mars
The flow is out of this world and so is the bars
Blow the facade right off of your squad
Lil’ rappers, I love you, but you ain’t shit ’til you got offers in Prague
Look that shit up
A book, nigga, pick that shit up
Expand your vocab
I’m giving out toe tags for no cash
All summer long plus three seasons after
Please CC a rapper, tell him meet me
It’s absolutely imperative that my heat speak to rappers
The problem with this game is this weak sea of rappers
I’m the answer on the low, I’m a cheat sheet for rappers
I came up ’round AC to DC adapters
Plug talk, what I’m really sayin’ is a shame but my niggas move ‘caine like HBCU Kappas
Whole town full of CC Sabathias
You think niggas gettin’ fat pitchin’ crack? [Verse]
Yeah
My mind state feel like the crime in the summertime
Higher than average
Lot of cabbage
Thank God I never abide by the established
Guidelines that keep niggas inside of fabrics
Commissioned by the state, I skate by the masters
Like “Yoo-hoo” with a new-new ridin’ passenger
Shout out Oak Cliff, I’m ’bout to fly to Dallas
Decade from now I might just buy the Mavericks
What up, Mark Cuban?