J. COLE - Miss America lyrics

rate me

This is a public service announcement! Brought to you by the good people at Dreamville RecordsAnd so my fellow americansAsk not what your country can do for youAsk what you can do for your countryExcuse me... Load the clip in the chopper, flip the script and get oscarsAll my n-ggas is mobsters, all my b-tches is doctorsCole World, this just the tip of the icebergSo talk sh-t and taste the tip of the MossbergDon't trip n-gga, they just wordsThough my words tend to sound like ProverbsN-ggas don't see the preachers 'til we dead in the hearseGranny broke cause she always givin' bread to the ChurchNow pastor Mason Betha in a LamboAnd little n-ggas holdin' desert eagles like they RamboBumpin' my sh-t, always wondered why they f-ck with my sh-tI hope it's 'bout the knowledge, not about who's suckin' my d-ckBut oh well, I'm gon' sell like I had no bailFor my chain and my piece I should've won NobelIll, boy you cold n-gga, yeah I know n-ggaOnly young n-gga do it better than the old n-ggasTook chances, slow dance with the devil b-tchOvercomin' the circumstances we hella richSince you all in my business, this what I tell 'em, b-tchIf you ain't f-ck with me, don't f-ck with me, this life on the edgeGreen dollars splurged all on embellishmentsMy fellowship paid, don't need to cop my fellas sh-itScoopin' hoes in the party, some Cinderella sh-tSmash for the hell of it, livin' life on the edgeMiss America, petty thoughtsMiss America, petty thoughtsMiss America, petty thoughtsJust to floss pay any and every costHeavy heart as I sit in this Range countin' thousands outAm I about dollars or about change?Am I about knowledge or about brains?Freedom or big chains, they don't feel my painBlood on my sneakers, no remorse for the grieversHe played the corner like Revis he should've had better defenseThat's how I'm feelin', blood spillin' I love killin'N-ggas'll swear that they it, this is as rare as it getsRap game changed, this is embarrassing sh-tBunch of b-tches posin' on some old Miss America sh-tI was a wilder n-gga back on my therapist sh-t, moving careless as sh-tIn a city where n-ggas really don't care who they hitWho the f-ck was I?Just a young little n-gga tryin' to see the other sideOf the railroad tracks, where them scarecrows atNo brains on a n-gga but they'll air your backF-ck the man, Uncle Sam I won't sell your crackI won't fight your wars, I won't wear your hatI'mma pass your classes, I'mma learn your craftI'mma f-ck your daughters, I'mma burn your flagTook chances, slow dance with the devil b-tchOvercomin' the circumstances we hella richSince you all in my business, this what I tell 'em, b-tchIf you ain't f-ck with me, don't f-ck with me, this life on the edgeGreen dollars splurged all on embellishmentsMy fellowship paid, don't need to cop my fellas sh-tScoopin' hoes in the party, some Cinderella sh-tSmash for the hell of it, livin' life on the edgeMiss America, petty thoughtsMiss America, petty thoughtsMiss America, petty thoughtsJust to floss pay any and every costHeavy heart as I sit in this Range countin' thousands outAm I about dollars or about change?Am I about knowledge or about brains?Freedom or big chains, they don't feel my painThey don't feel my painThey'll never feel my painAnd they'll never play this sh-t on the radio