Song parody of

The Secret Recipe

by J. Cole

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  • English (English)
  • Français (French)
  • Español (Spanish)

Yeah Allegedly, they figured out that I'm the secret recipe The baddest hoes gon' test the E, then blame the high for wantin' sex I never wanted peace, fuck all the opps, I support Malcolm X The stack of chains is just a front Overtaxed and underwhelming, your jeweler pulled a major stunt I don't smoke weed, already blunt, all of my cars, I had to hunt My doggy young as hell but still'll step, we call him baby runt Like window shoppers, I see through every front I speak on what I need, I foresee everything I want I block out anything I hate, and still the home is still unpaid The notice went unseen, the tenants too relaxed The standards have collapsed, they wrote me in with lames They treat me like I'm them, they hate, I overcame Refuse to pat my back, refuse to shake my hand Refuse to give me props when I am not around Refuse to act like I ain't shift the sound, like I ain't push the culture Like several vultures, they ain't come after me Like several vultures, ain't come after me, still, I keep it P Yeah, we still digress, and I'm playin' checkers, ain't playin' chess 'Cause I don't go 'round on niggas, we go over niggas I'll show you niggas, I'm personally nothin' like you and plus I ain't never liked you I'm rich as hell, I'd never fight you, I'll have somebody snipe you My doggy Lucky on the edge, holdin' on by a thread Just like a kite, it wouldn't cost a price And even if it did it always be right, just like I'm Bob Barker When I speak, pay attention, go over my words like highlight markers My only celebrity crush is Nikki Parker They said I got a type, said all my hoes, they look the same, they said they look too light Peep my cup, betcha couldn't tell that it was Sprite I give a fuck about her face, she walkin' with a bamski, I'ma strike For real (yeah) I'ma strike (it's us) I'ma strike, uh Cole and Yachty, comin' for they respect, come and pay your debt Just like a travel pillow, we at your neck for the way you slept It's nuance but I see hella influence in the way you dress The way you sound, the way you try to move And try to stay abreast on all the latest flows and the latest tones from Generation X Y'all chasing relevance, it's evidenced by the way you step As for me, I cook so masterfully, ain't gotta pay a chef I'm older now, but still, I'm cuttin' edge, I'm like a bayonet From out the 'Ville, we ocean certified You gotta wear your vest, too many homicides A lotta slidin', they good at makin' decks Thanks to God, I made it out the city, most would say I'm blessed My greatest flex is that I made a milli', feel like I'm Bangladesh I hate the press, refusin' interviews whenever they request Niggas fake-progressive and woke, I started sayin' less I had to stop it, peeped how they profit off of racial stress Some activists got so rich, they prolly wish we stay oppressed Studio steppers movin' extra on songs, fakin' rep Only breakin' bad in the lab, thought y'all was makin' meth Niggas makin' threats and I laugh, that's 'cause you ain't a threat Don't ask how I feel 'bout no rappers, shit, they okay, I guess Incomin' call, press the button, the one that say accept He FaceTime to ask for a feature and saw the face of death I'm on your song, your streams goin' up, not quite the Drake effect But don't complain, bitch, take what you get and cut the label check My table set, I dine on your favorite, one verse'll take his breath I prolly put more niggas on pause than Cam and Mason Beth My agent get a whole lotta calls, it's like he paid the ref These bitches out here lookin' like Steph on the late contest Wide open, shootin' they shot, don't even waste your breath I been stop fuckin' you thots, ain't got no patience left Save that shit for one of them niggas that rock the fake Pateks My paper stretched just like a Laker before he break a sweat Signed, the greatest yet

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