LYRIC

No album to my name and I’m already hot
You could say I’m preheated
If money talks, mine telling yours to be seated
Cut my leg off, I wouldn’t be defeated
Illest nigga in the game, bitch
And you can retweet it
E-mail the shit, make sure you Cc it
For these fuck niggas who don’t want to believe it
I be in the airport, damn near barefoot
Security hollering out “Cole, we need it!”
Getting high as fuck and I don’t even be weeded
No point drinking, I can’t even be faded
Real recognize real like they related
You ain’t no fucking G, boy
Your style G-rated
Hatred is flattery, glad to be hated
Fucking bad bitches that would rather be dated
Carolina niggas just glad that he made it
My money was running late, now it’s happy belated

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