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J Cole - Relaxation Lyrics

[Produced by J. Cole]

[Verse 1: J. Cole]
It’s ya nigga, deep thinker, big drinker
Late night, with ya wife in ya crib sneaker
When you out of town, and you not around
Turn your ass over like a nigga stepped out of bounds
Crowd around young’n
I got ammo and a lot of rounds coming
Up in the streets where you not allowed, runnin’
Got the songs bitches ride around hummin’
And the niggas stay thumpin’
And the hater’s hate pumpin’
Got the 808′s bumpin’
So the trunks stay thumpin’
And the nigga get high only on occasion and
My mind too wild
Damn thought weed supposed to calm you down
But I’m so high I could palm two clouds
Boy look, these niggas quote my lines like the Lord’s book
You niggas less rhymes more hooks
More bucks but less love
You hear them drums, Questlove
No Roots, I’m so truth
I used to rock sidelines like a coach suit
Had to look at all them loafers, yeah them boat shoes
Now I’m in the game but I won't boast to you dummy
Remember niggas had short jokes for my money
Toast to the honeys, money and the liquor
And bitch I don’t sound like any other nigga
With my finger on the trigger
I burn rappers like Henny on the liver
Grant death wishes like a genie I’m a killer
Lord giveth and he taketh like an Indian giver
Hard to keep jimmy in zipper
When you got them bad Aunt Vivians with ya
Remy and weed, I got em on Pluto
I prefer Henny but the hoes like Nuvo
[Verse 2: Fashawn]
Check, every time a nigga roll
Old school whips and it’s sitting on vogues
Hoes on me when I enter the door
If a nigga wanna trip, good grip on the chrome
Empty out a clip from the fifth then I’m gone
Twist up a spliff, get a fifth of Patron
Hate a chick who just talk shit on the phone
Baby I’m tryna stick, give ya dicks to ya dome, shit
If I was you nigga I would hate him
Hot August nights I’m out there in Vegas
Stuntin' til time, had that patience
Now it’s big faces, fly vacations
Alias Shawn Stacks
Miss shows, never call back
Blowin’ Dro sippin' tall cats
On the low had to crawl back
Niggas wonder if it’s all raps
Or it’s all facts

[Verse 3: Omen]
As I step in the door like Fe fi foe
With the heat like flow and the beat typo
Better rewrite yo, get your rhyming straight
Get murked plus 8 like Jon and Kate
I mean it’s time for the face off
Hit the corner like an 8 ball
Man I concentrate like Adolf
No time for a hater, get a day job
Me on the mind you ain't even on the radar
Love her brain but I never been a fiend for her silly ways
So I’m tryna get the cream til I’m silly paid
Couldn’t put her on the team, every week another reason
To scheme like Billy Mays
Gotta grind gotta focus
Gotta shine through the minds of the blind, lot of hopeless
Never confined to the rhymes that I’ve chosen
Omen, a sign of the times, gotta quote this