J. COLE


The Come Up Lyrics

Money coming soon, nigga...
I'm on the come up, chill nigga, don't run up,
A yellow nigga finna rise and shine like the sun up, (yea)
My mind on that paper, I ain't tryna wife a slut up,
I'm dying for this cake and I ain't tryna wipe a crumb up,
They ride with the gun up, kill you and light the blunt up, (uh)
Don't shed a tear, for a nigga might get done up,
But just say a prayer for a nigga might confront us,
Cause his life is summed up, the medics wipe his lungs up,
You coming to the ville, you gotta get a license from us,
City on my back, I feel like I'm holding Big Pun up,
No pain, no gain, my nigga, I just numb up.
I blow brains, go bang a nigga if he jump up,
With no shame, don't blame a nigga if you shot up,
This is cocaine on flames, baking soda and water,
And if you feel that, then I guess I sell crack, get it?
Fall back, man, a nigga feeling crazy.
Shitting on niggas, like a nigga was still a baby, (uh)
Carolina nigga, shout out to the ville, it raised me,
So many hoes whipped, you woulda thought we still in slavery.
And niggas still sleeping, they feeling lazy, (uh)
A killa? maybe, you make me, I will (uh)
Cheat me on my scrilla, I'll send you to meet Dilla, (uh)
From them NC streets where beef they deliver,
And the clip is on 'E' cause your chest got a filla.
A nigga like me just getting head like a pillow,
Bred like guerillas getting bread,
So long as my momma and my niggas getting fed,
f*ck what a niggas said, (man) I'm Fayettenam bombing,
Cause hatred is flattery, you bitch niggas is charming.
Who the f*ck you harming? Boy y'all niggas is Charmin, (uh)
And I'm on it, waiting for a target.
You f*cking with the best, like Common.
Ah shit, pardon a nigga for departin',
I'm just getting green like a yard or a garden.
A nigga finna blow, while you niggas is false alarmin.' (uh)
And just think though, I was raised on Ramen, (uh)
Chicken noodle soup, now I'm filet mignon.'
I promise my momma I was coming to make this money,
And I swear I'm a kill the nigga that try to take it from me.
Yeah

That's real talk, nigga!
It's J.Cole, nigga, Therapist,
Whatever f*ck you wanna call me, don't matter,
Make y'all niggas understand, man,
Yea!
Know y'all can't believe yourself right now,
Yo this nigga from the south, naw,
He can't spit, how the f*ck is he so good?
Hahaha
Open your eyes, motherf*cker,
Can't see?
Niggas on top! yup!
On top, yup, yup,
On top!

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these lyrics are submitted by kaan
Songwriter(s): kanye west
Record Label(s): 2024 Cole World, Inc , under exclusive license to Interscope Records
Official lyrics by

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