Lyrics to
Dead Presidents

This version of Dead Presidents was released by J. Cole in 2007.

Our J. Cole Songs profile has Dead Presidents lyrics from 2007 and most if not all of the lyrics by J. Cole that we have here at Decade Lyrics.

Here's more interesting things in songs and lyrics tied to J. Cole or about the 2000s in general.

Give me my money, man, why else would a nigga be grinding?
I’m for them diamonds, dog, how else could a nigga be shining?
I’m glowing, knowing that the flow intact,
Get this record deal, I swear to God, my first mil I’m blowing that
Now, like fuck it I know I’ll grow it back, shit, it’s nothing,
Funny how blacks spend their money on mad shit for stuntin
But shit, that’s all we know man, thats how a niggas raised
You learn bout two things: getting pussy, getting paid
And you should be gettin laid by the time you in ninth grade,
So niggas lying on they dick and hoes giving nice brain, yea.
In class dreamin bout having these nice things
And then you look around and wonder why you strugglin
But them whites ain’t
I brush it off like, “fuck it, it’s motivation,”
Some niggas gotta walk through life, some niggas roller skating
Some niggas bypassing steps, some niggas chose to take ’em
And for that fortune, man, some niggas sold their soul to Satan,
But fuck it man, I ain’t hatin, I gotta go for mines.
My little God-sister pregnant now, I put in overtime,
On my grind, yea, just like the nigga making Fortunes,
I’m focused, on my bite, like a cobra, I’m tryna get my Oprah on
These hoes is crying cuz I won’t pay ’em attention,
Time is money, bitch, and a nigga payin tuition,
Real niggas hustle by using their intuition,
While these fake niggas ain’t into doing, they into wishin,

Til I’m rich, ain’t no reason to settle nigga,
It’s greed that make a nigga wink at the devil to get that cheese,
You niggas couldn’t think at my level, even with trees,
You couldn’t get this deep with a shovel, now nigga, please,
I’m chasing G’s tryna throw some diamonds on them freeze,
Sick shit, sneeze on some thousand-dollar sleeves.
Ease to the top and I’m not finna leave til I’m hot,
But my watch gotta breeze, a south nigga,
Boy, I’m shining without the diamonds in my mouth,
Out grindin while you reclining on your couch,
I’m climbing, you haters blinded by the doubt,
My niggas riding is devout, so talking violence out yo mouth,
And you gonna find what I’m about, nigga
Far from a slouch, nigga, I ain’t gonna parle with y’all,
I’ll probably hit ya, my hand game like Bobby Fisher,
but check, them checks is all a nigga thinking,
For them Presidents, I’ll treat a nigga like Lincoln

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