Typecast

Yeah Just been all about expansion You know they hate when I talk like this Aye, I got pimpin' in my blood Got my main girl in the tub, all she wearin' is some suds I done bossed up to the point that all I care about is love Turned the family all execs, no such thing as rich enough Too Real Under Sean's Teachings, acronym for "trust" Initials in the sheets, got my logo in the rug Built in alarm clock, ain't got to tell me to get up When I walk in the arena, I feel like I'm Jerry Buss (bust it) And we shut down Coachella, they thought it was Harry Styles Except the skin, same color as a Black and mild Meditatin' blackin' out, J. Cole, a middle child But you know I get my fuckin' way, like a only child Downtown pimpin', city slickin', rockin' crocodile Yeah, they tryna pipe me down, but you gotta wipe me down Could tell from my handwriting, I got signature style I should write a fuckin' book on how to get it off the mile They used to look right past me (Swerve) Niggas can't even catch up to the past me (Swerve) She just wanna love me down and harass me They want me to play my role, but you can't typecast me (bitch) Yeah, typecast me Makin' sure my son straight, makin' sure my girl straight Makin' sure the fam straight, then I can die happy They want me to play the role, but you can't typecast me (bitch) Yeah, multi-million dollar salaries, for all of my legalities And we're comin' black tux when we're movin' casually Could build a damn positive affirmation gallery Passin' plays to my niggas, so the income is passive My genre isn't rap anymore, it's under classics (classics) Look, I knew back on Griswold When ain't nobody have my back, 'cause it was against the wall And Waun got hit with that fed case And he was livin' through me for that decade, to balance his headspace Man, first thing I think about, boardin' a jet Is how my mom and dad was flight attendants, that's how they met No wonder why my head's in the clouds, it makes sense Every day I wake up, I'm one day closer to death So what you gon' do with the time you got left? Ball on these pussies, damn, look at my neck I used to sell CD's outside of my history class What a foreshadow that was, when I'm lookin' back From the Blog Era, had to get through the tabloids Just like MJ had to get through the bad boys My son first Christmas, he finna have mad toys I prolly get his ass a S-Class if he ask for it But he gotta learn the hard way, life's a crash course And stick to the task, while dodgin' the task force (of course) And they used to look right past me (Swerve) Niggas can't even catch up to the past me (Swerve) She just wanna love me down and harass me They want me to play my role, but you can't typecast me Yeah, bitch Makin' sure my son straight, makin' sure my girl straight Makin' sure the fam straight, then I can die happy They want me to play the role, but you can't typecast me (bitch) They used to look right past me Ain't wanna do right by me Fuck it, alright by me (fuck it) So I couldn't do this and couldn't do that But niggas can't typecast me Niggas can't typecast me, niggas can't typecast me Fuck it Better me than you, shit, I gotta see it through