[Intro] Married men act totally different when they’re by themselves, don’t they? You see them with their wife, like, “what’s up Tony? Hey man, how’s everything going brother?” “Just taking it easy, hanging out with the lady” “Alright, take it easy now, God bless you” You be like that nigga ain’t like that You see him by himself, “What’s up Tony?” “Hey, yo, where’s the bitches at, nigga?”
[Verse 1: J. Cole] Yeah, give me my space Lord ain’t enough time to chase all these dreams I mean I got no time to wait Love my girl but told her straight up “don’t wait up” Stumble home late, I’m drunk, we fucked the maid up Used to live free as a bird, now I’m laid up Feeling like a nigga got handcuffs on How the fuck did my life become a damn love song? She ride for a nigga and she stand up for him But a nigga wanna be a nigga, be a nigga Ride through the streets with freaks and real niggas She never understand what it’s like to be a man Knowing when you look inside yourself you see a nigga And you don’t wanna let her down but you too young for the settle down And maybe you can thug it out, learn what is love about When you can’t live with it and live without Oh shit, goddamn, I think the devil got his hands on me Stripper saying: “Baby, why don’t you throw these bands on me?” And I came to spend, she pop a molly let the motherfucking games begin I’m running…
[Hook: J. Cole] Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I’m holding on desperately Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I’m holding on
[Verse 2: J. Cole] When it’s all said and done everybody dies In this life ain’t no happy endings Only pure beginnings followed by years of sinning and fake repentance The preacher says we were made in image of Lord To which I replied: “Are you sure? Even the murderer? Even the whore? Even the nigga running through bitches on tour?” With a good girl at home folding clothes and shit She losing faith in him and he knows and shit Like what the fuck is a break, don’t know how much I can take no more I give you all I got till it ain’t no more No more tears it’s been ten long years, damn near I don’t know if I can wait no more, and who can blame her You complaining ’bout every time you out, you come back she paow Sleeping back to back, this is wack We ’bout to go platinum in a minute, crib acting out My childhood fantasies of wife and home But it’s a whole lot of actresses I’d like to bone And despite the rumors you hold out [?] And she ride or die like Eve and ‘em Make home cooked meals every evening And even then, your lowest days when you no Superman At least you got your Lois Lane But you…
[Hook] Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I’m holding on desperately Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I’m holding on
[Verse 3: J. Cole] Yeah, unbelievable seen evil that not even Knievel know At age 3 I knew this world was three below Listen, even know my ego low achieved the unachievable Imagine if my confidence was halfway decent, yo This just in, fucked more bitches than Bieber though Still I keep it low, got my niggas on the need to know Basis, my manager back in the day was racist I was a young boy, passing skate and tucking laces Old perverted white man who told me: “Jermaine, It’s all pink on the inside Fuck what color their face is.” wise words from an indecent man Made me reflect on the times when we was three fifths of them And change empower less, brave souls reduce the cowardice Slaving in the baking sun for hours Slaving in the baking sun for hours Just to see the master creep into the shack where your lady at Nine months later got a baby that not quite what you excepted But you refuse to neglect it cause you know your wifey love you Does you refuse to accept it? That’s that type shit tell why my granny light skin Rich white man rule the nation still, only difference is we all slaves now The change concealed in our thoughts If I follow my heart to save myself Could I run away from 50 mill like Dave Chappell?
[Hook] Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I’m holding on desperately Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I’m holding onTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
