Artist: J. Cole
Track: Middle Child

Lyrics
You good, T-Minus?

Niggas been counting me out
I'm counting my bullets
I'm loading my clips
I'm writing down names
I'm making a list
I'm checking it twice and I'm getting 'em hit
The real ones been dying
The fake ones is lit
The game is off balance
I'm back on my shit
The Bentley is dirty
My sneakers is dirty
But that's how I like it
You all on my dick

I'm all in my bag
This hard as it get
I do not snort powder
I might take a sip
I might hit the blunt
But I'm liable to trip
I ain't popping no pill
But you do as you wish
I roll with some fiends
I love 'em to death
That got a few mil'
But not all of them rich
What good is the bread if my niggas is broke?
What good is first class if my niggas can't sit?
That's my next mission
That's why I can't quit
Just like LeBron
Get my niggas more chips
Just put the Rollie right back on my wrist
This watch came from Drizzy
He gave me a gift
Back when the rap game was praying I'd diss
They act like two legends cannot coexist
But I'd never beef with a nigga for nothing
If I smoke a rapper
It's gon' be legit
It won't be for clout
It won't be for fame
It won't be 'cause my shit ain't selling the same
It won't be to sell you my latest lil' sneakers
It won't be 'cause some nigga slid in my lane
Everything grows
It's destined to change
I love you lil' niggas
I'm glad that you came
I hope that you scrape every dollar you can
I hope you know money won't erase the pain
To the OG's
I'm thanking you now
Was watching you when you was paving the ground
I copied your cadence
I mirrored your style
I studied the greats
I'm the greatest right now
Fuck if you feel me
You ain't got a choice
I ain't do no promo
Still made all that noise
This shit gon' be different
I set my intentions
I promise to slap all that hate out your voice

Niggas been counting me out
I'm counting my bullets
I'm loading my clips
I'm writing down names
I'm making a list
I'm checking it twice and I'm getting 'em hit
The real ones been dying
The fake ones is lit
The game is off balance
I'm back on my shit
The Bentley is dirty
My sneakers is dirty
But that's how I like it
You all on my dick

I just poured something in my cup
I've been wanting something I can feel
Promise I am never lettin' up
Money in your palm don't make you real
Foot is on they neck
I got 'em stuck
I'ma give 'em something they can feel
If it ain't 'bout the squad
Don't give a fuck
Pistol in your hand don't make you real

I'm dead in the middle of two generations
I'm little bro and big bro all at once
Just left the lab with young 21 Savage
I'm 'bout to go and meet Jigga for lunch
Had a long talk with the young nigga Kodak
Reminded me of young niggas from 'Ville
Straight out the projects
No faking, just honest
I wish that he had more guidance, for real
Too many niggas in cycle of jail
Spending they birthdays inside of a cell
We coming from a long bloodline of trauma
We raised by our mamas
Lord we gotta heal
We hurting our sisters
The babies as well
We killing our brothers
They poisoned the well
Distorted self image
We set up to fail
I'ma make sure that the real gon' prevail, nigga

I just poured something in my cup
I've been wanting something I can feel
Promise I am never lettin' up
Money in your palm don't make you real
Foot is on they neck
I got 'em stuck
I'ma give 'em something they can feel
If it ain't 'bout the squad
Don't give a fuck
Pistol in your hand don't make you real

(Money in your palm don't make you real)
(Pistol in your hand don't make you real)
(Money in your palm don't make you real)