Black Friday (Remix of J. Cole's 'A Tale of 2 Citiez')

LETRA

Black Friday (Remix of J. Cole's 'A Tale of 2 Citiez')

Dick hard like Rottweiler
Can you handle it? Can you handle it? Woo woo, woo woo

The whole industry been in shambles
Everybody fugazi, I'm just changing the channel
Kendrick Lamar, the people's champion, I'm animal for analysts
Career damaging verses, meditating with candles lit
I like my raps extra prolific
Since freestyling on lunch tables and park benches
And I won't mention my ten thousand hours in training
While juggling gang-banging, my balancing was tremendous
And now we look at the competition as quick submission
They tappin' out before we even get a chance to miss ‘em
What this about, is it money or skill?
Maybe it's both and I got large amounts of it, it's real
You see my oath is very unbreakable, my style is never mistakable
I can see y'all incapable
To be the God emcees, you know me well
Ridiculous, venomous, hate in my heart, the sinister
Run for cover, my lineage prove itself
I'm rollin' deep in that paper like two Adeles
Before scholars, I flowed tighter than virgin lips
We had to shake the game up and you're flying through turbulence
Everything is high stakes nowadays, that's how it played nowadays
It's like an 8-ball to the face nowadays
I'm laced nowadays, my gun is off the waist nowadays
It's seven figures and retainer for the case nowadays, I'm talking
Hiiigher power, every other hour since Eddie Bauer
Since stash boxes and lead showers, breaking the padlock
And the dead coward dying a thousand deaths, entire lion
Surround itself with bears, watch it ni***, you share a profit, ah!
This is what they want, I'm the one
This is vintage from nineteen-eighty-somethin'
I'm the son of the pioneer that got you near the sun
Play with him, bitch you better off voting for Donald Trump
I'm yelling Mr. Kanye West for president
He probably let me get some head inside the residence
I'm in the White House going all out
Bumping College Dropout, God-bless Americans
Nothing more influential than rap music
I merge jazz fusion with the trap music
I mix black soul with some rock and roll
They never box me in, I'm David Blaine-ing all you hoes
Oh yea, let's go there, my DNA is DMT, I'm so rare
My Juvenile was wilder than the Nolia
A locomotive couldn't track me down in my career
Runnin' this shit with four pair, son of my bitch, I might demolish
A bitch right in front ya, chico, what have you done here?
D-Bo, all of it one year, Mississippi to California
It gets annoying, niggas wanna deploy him
And bitches wanna adore him, but industry shit ain't for him
Probably thinking it's for him, only one me
Swallowed the key and kicking the door in, never leasing my foreign
Mr. Valevictorian studied the game before them
Listen to you with boredom, baby rappers, abort them
To the grave I deport them, corporations extort them
I'm snapping off my endorphins, I alien mighty morphin'
My radiance rather gorgeous, hundred bill to the doorman
Hundred mil in my fortune, they call me back in the morning
You're racing against the tortoise, pace myself it's important
Lace myself with the wisdom my playerism enormous
So pay the man for performance, saucy all of my garments
Jimi Kendrix performing, this fuc*** studio haunted (Ah!)
I tell a bitch don't sweat me (Don't sweat me)
I kill this whole fuckin' beat if Cole let me (Please Cole)
Ib should've never sent the instrumental
Every time I start writing I get sentimental
This shit is just not fair
But why the f*** should I care?
The story of your life here
Two young stars was born and y'all gon' die here
Oh Lord, gotta be the yams
Billboard list need 2Pac, damn
But number 9 makes sure he lives on, yeah
Hoochie, coochie, pussies in a trance
Every day a celebration, but even the valley peaking me
Is not validation, ni*** this TDE
And my doggies be salivating, salaries, better ratings
And casualties all around me, don't make me do demonstrations
Whoa
Murder my allegations and burning my finger traces
Adjourning my power patience and earning royalty payments
I'm sorry y'all not relating, this party is reservated
I kill this whole muthafucking beat if J. Cole say it
My ni*** Ib chopped the instrumental, I gotta slay it
I gotta lay it, gotta show you fuck*** I'm not to play with
The ruckus had been my favorite, King Kunta the fuckin' greatest
Whoa
Burnin' my leather-
(Nah I'm just fuckin' wit cha)