Amari Lyrics by J. Cole
Bada-ba, bada-ba
Off Season
Let’s work, hey
Plottin’ my escape, this game writin’ a niggas faith
Got a couple M’s hidin’ in the safe
Imagination turned a Honda into Wraith
I was doin’ eighty on the interstate
Tryna make it back before my class started
Country nigga never seen a passport
‘Til I popped off and got a bag for it
Now I’m at the Gardens sittin’ half court
Watchin’ Jr. catch it off the backboard
‘Ville nigga never seen nothin’
Except a fucking triple bean jumpin’
Good dope leave a fiend crumpin’
Made it out, it gotta mean somethin’
Either you gon’ hustle hard
A nigga Uncle Sam got your ass re-enlisting
Two-six, murder scene pumpin’
Better leave it tuck, ’cause he ain’t dumbin’
Pow, pow, nigga, he slumpy
12 comin’, we ain’t seen nothin’
Time change, niggas ain’t rumblin’ no more
Nah, what for? Hungry for more
If you solo these vocals
If you listen closely you can hear crumblin’
Mo-tie and I’m still munchin’
Big bag, never fear fumblin’
Want smoke? Nigga don’t choke
I’m a whole fuckin’ nicotine company
Dreamville the only, not a Navy
How could you ever try to play me?
Kill ’em on a song walk up out the booth
Do the Westbrook rock-a-baby
I never fall out with the bro
Hate when your family turn into foe
We had a penthouse on the road
Interior decorated with the hoes
Just like a multiple-choice getting chose
My niggas like “Eenie, meenie, minee, moe”
Scoop up a dime-piece like we homeless
Then we gon’ send ’em back, bitch, we told you
Out of the concrete was a rose and windows was cold
Had to go over and stand by the stove
We from the Southeast, niggas know
This where the opps creep real slow
And fuck what they mob deep with the poles
I punch the time sheet, no more
And now my assigned seat is a [?]
Plottin’ my escape, this game writin’ a niggas faith
Got a couple M’s hidin’ in the safe
Imagination turned a Honda into Wraith
I was doin’ eighty on the interstate
Tryna make it back before my class started
Country nigga never seen a passport
‘Til I popped off and got a bag for it
Now I’m at the Gardens sittin’ half court
Watchin’ Jr. catch it off the backboard
‘Ville nigga never seen nothin’
Except a fucking triple bean jumpin’
Good dope leave a fiend crumpin’
Made it out, it gotta mean somethin
Made it out, it gotta mean somethin
Made it out, it gotta mean somethin
Bada-ba, bada-ba
Written by J. Cole
Album/EP; The Off-Season