[Produced by Canei Finch & J. Cole]

[Intro: DJ Khaled]
DJ Khaled

[Verse 1: J Cole]
And you know it don't stop, grindin' 'round that clock
Masterminding my second album, my first album just dropped
Scored a touchdown on my first down
N***as thought I was gon' flop
See I hustle like my momma but I look just like my pops, ha
And we still duckin' cops, ride around and take shots
Hennessy for my enemies, n***as know I'm takin' they spot
'Cause that score up on the play clock show just how I came from way back
Just like T-I-P told you—ASAP; but you n***as rappin' like Aesop, Aesop, get a grip!

[Pre-Chorus 1: J. Cole]
Oh that's your dream car? N***a that's my old whip
Oh that's your dream girl? N***a that's my old bitch
Oh that's your new flow? N***a that's my old shit!
This that new K.R.I.T. shit, that Cole shit, them country n***as

[Chorus: J. Cole]
One for the money, two for the show
Three for them hoes saying anything goes
They say they ready for whatever!
They say they ready for whatever
I been around the world: twice, to be exact
Six bad bitches and they lapped up in the back
They say they ready for whatever! Ha
They say they ready for whatever
[Verse 2: Big K.R.I.T.]
Yuh, yuh, Young Krizzle
Shawty look what we got (we got), my bass beat and it knock (It knock)
Got the old school in my old school was to post up on your block (Your block)
Yo broad chose like she was s'posed to and you up in arms 'cause she bopped (She bopped)
Cole I hate to say it but I got to say that I wish that they would just stop (Whoa)
So fuck these haters, fuck these hoes that ain't slammin' doors on they drop (Whoa)
Y'all n***as too young to remember how to the South used to be, but I'm not (Whoa)
So when it come to snappin', Cadillacs, SpottieOttieDopaliscious, y'all pop (Whoa)
You thought Krit Wuz Here and R4 were the shit? Bitch, wait 'til my album drop (Get 'em girls)

[Pre-Chorus 2: Big K.R.I.T.]
Say that's your new car? N***a, that's my old slab
Say that's your new bitch? N***a, that's my old stab
Oh that's yo new flow? That shit sound so trash
This that new K.R.I.T. shit, that Cole shit, them country n***as

[Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar]
Hol' up...but don't forget about Compton, n***a!
One for the money, two for the show
Three for No Limit and the rest for Death Row
That means I been 'bout it 'bout it and this is the realest shit I ever wrote
And if anyone ever doubt it, then they are the loudest of liars I know
I only desire to blow, she only desire to blow
And I hope that my dick is a whistling flute
And that's not the instrumental
Now pick up my coat
You let that motherfucker drag like RuPaul
I'll drag your ass to the floor
Bitch, I can admit, I'm a recovered addict, paraphernalia that is
Telling the doctor I'm sick, head doctor, I'm needing your lips, yeah
Proper analogy for it, if I can afford it, then I won't ignore it, clear
Cop me a palace and Porsche and right, when I floor it, that's when I switch gears
Living my life on Uranus, ugh, keeping one foot in your anus, ugh
The other foot all on your neck, repeatedly stomp 'til I break it, ugh
Bitch I'm demanding respect, these bitches is telling me, "Take it"
DJ Khaled, even if I had callus, holding the torch ain't no challenge, ain't it? Ooh, huhuhu
[Chorus: J. Cole]
One for the money, two for the show
Three for them hoes saying anything goes
They say they ready for whatever!
They say they ready for whatever
I been around the world: twice, to be exact
Six bad bitches and they lapped up in the back
They say they ready for whatever! Ha
They say they ready for whatever