B.o.B, J. Cole - Gladiators lyrics
J. Cole [Jermaine Lamarr Cole] Frankfurt, Germany/Fayetteville, North Carolina, U.S. 🇩🇪 🇺🇸
[B.o.B, J. Cole - Gladiators lyrics]
Okay, so I'm on the beat
What am I supposed to rhyme?
What am I supposed to do in this
Booth? Am I to flow a line?
What am I, a spokesman now? What am I
A poster child? What am I supposed to smile?
What am I supposed to be the
Dopest MC to hold this down?
What if I wasn't poor as a child?
What if I didn't grow up in doubt?
I probably shouldn't be smoking so much
My mind is over fried
But still I notice how them
Same folks will smile in your face
But behind your back them
Same folk will frown
But that's enough about them, talk about me
Yes, B to the O, I said B to the O
And to the B, I owe it to the streets
And I ain't trying to brag
But you know your boys a beast
And yeah I gotta eat cause
My groceries on this beat
And my song will carry on
'til I no longer speak
My soul is also Kosher added
To the fact I'm cheap
And I put that on my grandma, Othella
So rest in peace hater
Yeah, nigga hey, yeah, nigga
Hey
Ayy, many blessings sent from heaven
Thanking God to be alive
Flight attendant woke me up said
"Mr Cole you have arrived, welcome"
In this game the price of fame is steep
Lord help 'em keep 'em sane
Prayin' that the heat won't melt 'em
I'm headed to the top
I couldn't be more welcome
Took the lead role
Now look I'm right outside your peephole
That's for the crown holders
Never would I dethrone
But, if you ever leave home, don't worry
I keep your seat warm
So yeah, I'm Simba in a sense, I'm the prince
You impostors no Mufasa's
But there's Oscars for you gents
When I say I'm better then you
Niggas don't mean no offense
But is clear with no tints, man
Just check the fingerprints
You'll see we not the same
I got a shit list with lot's of names
And plus hit list with of
Rappers I'ma cock and aim
Then it's who shot ya
Mane? Finally figured out the game
Got nuttin' to lose
And a whole fuckin' lot to gain
What yeah, nigga
J cole, nigga uh, yeah, BoB, nigga
Uh, ATL boy, Grand Hustle, nigga
Roc Nation, nigga, Dreamville yeah
What am I supposed to rhyme?
What am I supposed to do in this
Booth? Am I to flow a line?
What am I, a spokesman now? What am I
A poster child? What am I supposed to smile?
What am I supposed to be the
Dopest MC to hold this down?
What if I wasn't poor as a child?
What if I didn't grow up in doubt?
I probably shouldn't be smoking so much
My mind is over fried
But still I notice how them
Same folks will smile in your face
But behind your back them
Same folk will frown
But that's enough about them, talk about me
Yes, B to the O, I said B to the O
And to the B, I owe it to the streets
And I ain't trying to brag
But you know your boys a beast
And yeah I gotta eat cause
My groceries on this beat
And my song will carry on
'til I no longer speak
My soul is also Kosher added
To the fact I'm cheap
And I put that on my grandma, Othella
So rest in peace hater
Yeah, nigga hey, yeah, nigga
Hey
Ayy, many blessings sent from heaven
Thanking God to be alive
Flight attendant woke me up said
"Mr Cole you have arrived, welcome"
In this game the price of fame is steep
Lord help 'em keep 'em sane
Prayin' that the heat won't melt 'em
I'm headed to the top
I couldn't be more welcome
Took the lead role
Now look I'm right outside your peephole
That's for the crown holders
Never would I dethrone
But, if you ever leave home, don't worry
I keep your seat warm
So yeah, I'm Simba in a sense, I'm the prince
You impostors no Mufasa's
But there's Oscars for you gents
When I say I'm better then you
Niggas don't mean no offense
But is clear with no tints, man
Just check the fingerprints
You'll see we not the same
I got a shit list with lot's of names
And plus hit list with of
Rappers I'ma cock and aim
Then it's who shot ya
Mane? Finally figured out the game
Got nuttin' to lose
And a whole fuckin' lot to gain
What yeah, nigga
J cole, nigga uh, yeah, BoB, nigga
Uh, ATL boy, Grand Hustle, nigga
Roc Nation, nigga, Dreamville yeah