J. Cole - Dolla And A Dream lyrics

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J. Cole - Dolla And A Dream lyrics

A dolla and a dream, that's all a n***a got So if its about that cream, then I’m all up in the spot I was raised in the F-A Why a n***a never gave me nothing? Pops left me, I ain’t never cry, baby, f** him, that’s life And trust me I’m living, Look what a n***a made out, The sh** that I was given, Look what a n***a came out Momma sewing patches on my holes, Man, our hoes couldn’t put this flame out. Straight up, I got my back against the brick wall, I’m from a world where n***as never pop no Cristal, it was pistols. You pa** through, you better pray them bullets missed y’all, I thank the Lord He let a n***a make it this far, A lot n***as don’t, a lot of moms weep. I gotta carry on, all the weight is on me. You never know when a n***a might try to harm me. Rest In Peace that n***a John Lee, I pour liquor, homie It’s foul, but yo the world keeps spinning, Gotta keep winning, get up off this cheap linen, n***a Imma eat, even if it means sinning, n***as want beef, Imma sink my teeth in ‘em Pause, I go harder, I'm all about a dollar You n***as street smart? I’m a motherf**ing scholar So trust me, I ain’t stopping ‘til my money is long, So much dough, them hoes will think I’m rocking money cologne Have a model at the crib waiting, “Honey, I’m home.” Cooking greens for a n***a, give ‘em plenty, a dome. It’s funny, we dream about money so much its like we almost got it, Until we reach up in our pockets, its time to face reality, The ville is a trap n***a now, And if you ain’t focused you gonna be here for awhile, My n***a Mike rolling with me, riding shotgun, Type a n***a know about every car, but don’t got one. That’s hunger, no wonder n***as f**ing with the evils, Posted on the corner, selling crack like its legal But who am I to judge how a n***a get his paper? This money coming soon, dog, I’m tryna get my cake up I guess I gotta wake up these n***as myself, An E&J sipper, but my sh** is top shelf, Young J, the rawest sh** you n***as ever heard of A journalist n***a, call me the Fayetteville Observer You know the routine, man Fayettnam Real n***as can relate, And Ville n***as can relate, man. My n***as know about the struggle, man. What you know about your momma sewing patches on your holes, n***a? I had the light blue jeans with the green patches, haha, oh sh**. I was in like first grade man, I swear It was like the Sixes came out, the Jordan Sixes. Them sh** was so fly man, I wanted them so bad. Darryl what up man? My n***a Darryl had them sh**s on in cla** yo, I wanted that sh** soooo bad. I begged my mom for that sh**, you know. But she couldn’t afford it, yo, she gave me, Got me some Reeboks black tops, ahaha But that was all good tho, cuz uh, The year after that I had, I had some, some no name sh**s, Some all black sh**s, haha Them sh**s had metal, metal shoelace buckles and sh**, you know? But you know back then n***as didn’t, n***as ain’t even know he was broke man, no worries and sh**. But uh, times have changed man, I got bills, My mom is in debt, what you know about that? College loans and sh**, n***a Gotta get this money, ma

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