Dolla And A Dream I
Lyrics J. Cole

For all my ville n*ggas man,
All my Carolina n*ggas man, (lights off and sh*t)
All my real n*ggas, no matter where you come from

A dolla and a dream, that's all a n*gga got
So if it's about that C.R.E.A.M., then I'm all up in the spot.
I was raised in the F-A-
Why a n*gga never gave me nothing?
Pops left me, I ain't never cry, baby, f*ck him, that's life.
An trust me I'm living,
Look what a n*gga made out,
The sh*t that I was given,
Look what a n*gga came out
Momma sewing patches on my holes,
Man, our hoes couldn't put this flame out.

Straight up, I got my back against the brick wall,
I'm from a world where n*ggas never pop no Cristal, it was pistols.
You pass through, you better pray them bullets missed y'all,
I thank the Lord He let a n*gga make it this far,
A lot n*ggas don't, a lot of moms weep.
I gotta carry on, all the weight is on me.
You never know when a n*gga might try to harm me.
Rest In Peace that n*gga John Lee,
I pour liquor, homie.

It's foul, but yo the world keeps spinning,
Gotta keep winning, get up off this cheap linen,
N*gga I'ma eat, even if it means sinning,
N*ggas want beef, I'ma sink my teeth in 'em.
Pause, I go harder, I am all about a dollar.
You n*ggas street smart? I'm a motherf*cking scholar.
So trust me, I ain't stopping 'til my money is long,
So much dough, them hoes will think I'm rocking money cologne.

Have a model at the crib waiting, "Honey, I'm home."
Cooking greens for a n*gga, give 'em plenty, a dome.
It's funny, we dream about money so much its like we almost got it,
Until we reach up in our pockets, its time to face reality,
The ville is a trap n*gga now,
And if you ain't focused you gonna be here for awhile, yeah.

My n*gga Mike rolling with me, riding shotgun,
Type a n*gga know about every car, but don't got one.
That's hunger, no wonder n*ggas f*cking with the evils,
Posted on the corner, selling crack like its legal.
But who am I to judge how a n*gga get his paper?
This money coming soon, dog, I'm tryna get my cake up.
I guess I gotta wake up these n*ggas myself,
An E&J sipper, but my sh*t is top shelf,
Young J, the rawest sh*t you n*ggas ever heard of.
A journalist n*gga, call me the Fayetteville Observer.

You know the routine, man
Real n*ggas can relate,
And Ville n*ggas can relate, man.
My n*ggas know about the struggle, man.
What you know about your momma sewing patches on your holes, n*gga?
I had the light blue jeans with the green patches, haha, oh sh*t.
I was in like first grade man, I swear
It was like the Sixes came out, the Jordan Sixes.
Them sh*t was so fly man, I wanted them so bad.
Darryl what up man?
My n*gga Darryl had them sh*ts on in class yo,
I wanted that sh*t so bad.
I begged my mom for that sh*t, you know.
But she couldn't afford it, yo, she gave me,
Got me some Reebok's black tops, ahaha
But that was all good tho, cuz uh,
The year after that I had, I had some, some no name sh*ts,
Some all black sh*ts, haha
Them sh*ts had metal, metal shoelace buckles and sh*t, you know?
But you know back then n*ggas didn't,
N*ggas ain't even know he was broke man, no worries and sh*t.
But uh, times have changed man, I got bills,
My mom is in debt, what you know about that?
College loans and sh*t, n*gga
Gotta get this money, ma


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