Album Of The Year – J. Cole

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El famoso J. Cole ha compartido un nuevo estilo libre, “Album Of The Year“. La nueva canción, que está configurada para “Oochie Wally” de Nas y Bravehearts, es la primera producción de Cole desde que dejó KOD a principios de este año. 

El interprete J. Cole muestra que forma parte de la élite de raperos, destaca el recorrido a solas y exhibe las condiciones que proporciona a artistas como Bas y JID en su Dreamville.  Por otro lado, KOD es nombrado por su autor como “Álbum del Año”, a su vez, en la descripción del vídeo, viene un anuncio prometedor: “la temporada baja está llegando. 

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Letra de Freestyle – J. Cole

Cole world, cold blooded
Trapping niggas at my shows and them hoes love it
Backpacking niggas with the afroes love it
So don’t holla at a nigga if you got no budget

Trying to get my braid up, nope not talking cornrolls
Trying to get my grade up, oh, look how my score rolls
Playing Jigga hits he say “good, make more of those”

Cole got delivery bitch, you got digornoes
They fucking with me because I’m real as shit
Well if you feel this shit, here goes some realer shit

I signed a big deal and went to the dealership
Man they took one look at my credit and said forget it
Now I’m in this train with a mil to my name

Ain’t shit changed because I still feel the pain
Like a gym or a rim dog, I’m built for the game
Something like a pimp because I’m still with the caine’

Unh, a little drug dealer reference what, I can’t try
These niggas out here lying, why can’t I
Flashbacks where my teacher told me I can’t fly

Then he looked at nigga crazy because I say why
Now look, no wings but I’m flier than the birds
Co-signer on a beamer, but it’s whiter than the burbs

Something like a genius, but man I’ve done been a nerd
Just choosing bad bitches while admiring the curves
That might have been a noun, that might have been a verb

But I’m just trying to find what you hiding in that skirt
Hey Cole got it coming now he might’ve been the first
So she only fuck with him like a choir in a church

Good God, momma told him get a good job
Be a doctor or a lawyer, if you’re black they won’t employ ya’
Well nigga I’m a show ya’, this that Jesse Jackson uh

Firmative; action so master I’m taxing uh
Don’t let the cover fool ya’, bitch I ain’t no freshman
In my own class man, I write my own passes

I hear the shots fired, yeah I see the stones casted
My shit is already fire, don’t gas it
Niggas hear my album say sound like a classic

Niggas say your album might not even see the plastic
Bastard, how you gonna match with a nigga
Who done mastered the shit you practice

Catch this, a real nigga til’ the day of my casket
Put on for my city like my favorite jacket
Man you gonna wear that every god damn night
Know that I’m paid for this shit, nigga you God damn right