The songs that I made in my bedroom and %#@!
Finally give a ^!$$% leg room in this (*##$


Yeah Cole World, make way for the chosen one
Aint nobody else I'd rather be, not even Oprah's son
Momma's youngest getting paper like the oldest one

We living better guess God felt he owed us one
Closets barely had no clothes in them
So you throw my ^!$$%s in hoopty', but we still bag hoes and them

These ^!$$%s give they heart and soul to them
I wonder if they know we doving them
Ass fat so when pinch 'em (pincher) like a Doberman

Run up on em politicing like Keith Olbermann
What's your name? Where ya from?
Ya got a dream? I'll sell ya one

Come and kick it with a ^!$$% on his way to the top
Won't stop, won't stop
Hey and don't stop

Now if it don't jam the hoes wont rock
And if it aint crack then the fiends wont cop
And you wonder why a ^!$$% got the %#@! you don't got


Gotta see it to believe it
Gotta see it to believe it

Gotta see it to believe it

And don't stop

Now if it don't jam the hoes wont rock
And if it aint crack then the fiends wont cop
And you wonder why a ^!$$% got the %#@! you don't got