BOMBIM (Ahhh) Cole World (Ahhh) Southside Can’t get enough, can’t get enough (Ahhh) Eastside, Westside, worldwide Ride out
[Verse 1: J. Cole] Now I ain’t got no kids yet, but this right here’s for practice I hate to get the seats in the Benz wet, but that’s how good yo’ ass is Make an old man get his glasses Make Wesley pay his taxes Then follow yo’ moves all week on Twitter Probably make a gay nigga reconsider You now rocking with the best, mayne, dress game down to the sex game Won’t brag, but the boy been blessed, mayne Let you play with the stick - Ovechkin She calling, she texting, she’s falling, but lemme explain Gotta tell your old boyfriend skate, girl, ’cause a nigga don’t play them ex games No! Straight sexing, no handcuff or arresting And I ain’t coming offa my last name, ’cause I really can’t take no stressing ‘Bout where I done been, who I done hit Your homegirl saying, “He a bad boy” But I’m signed to the Roc No time for the gossip, bitch, put down them tabloids
[Hook: Trey Songz & J. Cole] She said “I heard you got a main chick A mistress and some hoes You be up to no good And everybody knows My homegirls tried to warn me They tried to let me know But what you got, I need a lot So I can’t let you go”
She said “I, can’t get enough, can’t get enough” (I-Need-That) “I, can’t get enough, can’t get enough” (I-Need-That) “I can’t get enough of what you got Good God, you hit the spot Tried to let go but I just could not So don’t you stop, I need that”
[Verse 2: J. Cole] Hey, Globetrotter, Cole hotter Even way out in London town Hoes holla ’cause they love my sound And I got love for the underground Kweli, Pimp C H-town where Bun get down Met a bad bitch that’ll cut all night, that’ll suck all night, you just cut off lights Almost missed my flight, tryna get my last little nut, all right? She be down for whatever, whenever I wanna get up in the guts, all right? Never fuss or fight, on the grind tryna find this lettuce I love it when you give me head I hate it when you give me headaches
[Hook]
[Verse 3: J. Cole] Hey, Cole World, baby, ain’t nothing sunny I see ‘em hating, but it ain’t nothing to me I’m from the Ville, where they bang for the money And carry fo’-fives like change for a twenty So what I look like scurred? Them niggas over there look like nerds Never mind that, girl, let’s make a track I’ll beat the pussy up, that’s the hook right thurr That’s the hook, right there There’s the hook, right there Never mind that, girl, let’s make a track I’ll beat the pussy up, that’s the hook right thurr