"Blow Up" lyrics - J. COLE

J. COLE

"Blow Up"

[Chorus:]
Hey, this is a song for my haters
Yeah, you got me feeling like the greatest
Yeah, hey, this is a song for my haters
Hey hey, you got me feeling like the greatest
Ha, bitch I'm about to blow up
Bitch I'm about to blow up

Hey I came up
I warmed up the next up
Bitch I'm about to blow up
Now don't it sound legendary
Live enough to resurrect the dead and buried
This for niggas who ain't satisfied with secondary
This for my sisters who ain't satisfied with secretary
Uh, I'm blowing up and bitch I'm still me
But what's the cost to live your dream, do you feel me?
Everything glittering ain't what you think it will be
Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free
I'm starring in this bitch and yeah I write the show
Fuck the haters, I'm headed to the place you like to go
They say: "What you fighting for? The game is on life support"
And Gary Coleman just passed: life is short
Bitch I'm about to blow up
Look I'm about to blow up
Yeah got to the club early just to get in free
And wait for hoes to show up
But now its bottles at them tables, bring the models boy
I'm about to po' up
Uh ha, you know what
Bitch I'm about to blow up
Left side, left side
Right side, right side
Left side, left side, hey!

Momma said I should reconsider law school
That means I wear a suit and bend the truth and feel awful
Hell naw, got a degree, but what that cost you?
You make a good salary just to pay Sally Mae
That's real as ever
Ducking bill collectors like Jehovah's witness
When they showed up at your door at Christmas
Was broke as dishes tryna let it go
Hit the club she drop it low
Lower than my credit score
Account overdraft what I got this debit for
So much debt it got me drinking, thinking "Bitch I better blow"
I better blow
These hoes ain't checking for no nigga with no vehicle
You border like Mexico
Hey baby girl what it look like
And where ya head at
And what ya cook like
She said where ya bread at
And what your whip like
You ain't got one or the other well brother good night

Praise God, it's hard to stay spiritual
How they got these niggas on the TV selling miracles
You mean to tell me everything gon be fine
If I call your hotline and pay 29.99 shit
Well damn, why ain't you say so?
Take this check and ask God to multiply all my pesos
And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes
I saved her number just in case but now it's case closed
To you niggas biting my flows and my subject matter
You'll never be me partner so it don't fucking matter
You try to be and your career will see funerals
And be you, that's when it sounds beautiful
Then maybe you could blow up
And maybe you could blow up
Shit, but you know what?
For now, bitch I'm about to blow up