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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
J. Cole
Vocals
Ron Gilmore
Keyboards
Pete Whitfield
Performer
Dave Linaburg
Guitar
Joanna Maurer
Performer
Annaliesa Place
Violin
Ann Lehman
Violin
Suzanne Ornstein
Violin
David Southhorn
Violin
Shmuel Katz
Viola
Milena Pajaro-Van De Stadt
Viola
Desiree Elsevier
Viola
Kyle Armbrust
Viola
Jerry Grossman
Cello
Maureen McDermott
Cello
Mary Wooten
Cello
Christine Kim
Cello
John Patitucci
Bass
Rachel Calin
Bass
Jung Sun Yoo
Violin
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
J. Cole
Songwriter
Michael Giffts
Songwriter
Deborah Anderson
Songwriter
Fabrice Dumont
Songwriter
Stephan Haeri
Songwriter
Christophe Hetier
Songwriter
Pete Whitfield
Orchestrator
Ken Lewis
String Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
J. Cole
Executive Producer
Ken Lewis
Engineer
Juro "Mez" Davis
Mixing Engineer
Sam Giannelli
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Mark Pitts
Executive Producer
Roc Nation
Executive Producer
Tyler Hartman
Engineer
Daniel Recinos
Engineer
Lyrics
Ayo, ayo, ayo, ah, ayo, ah
Ayo, ayo, ayo, ah
Yeah
I hate rich niggas goddammit
'Cause I ain't never had a lot, dammit
Who you had to kill, who you had to rob
Who you had to fuck just to make it to the top dammit
Or maybe that's daddy money, escalator no ladder money
Escalade, new caddy money
Worst fear going broke 'cause I'm bad with money
Crooked smile nigga momma never had the money damn
I ain't trippin'
A nigga Jordan, I ain't Pippen yeah
Up the steps, I ain't slippin'
Tears, blood, sweat and I ain't crippin', here's
A song you can sing along with when you down
On some let you know you ain't alone shit
When your momma ain't at home 'cause she got a second job
Delivering pizzas you think she out here getting robbed
Please God watch her I know how niggas do
Half cracker but a nigga too
Talking all that shit 'bout your step-pops
How he was a dog, now look at you
I ain't bad as that nigga plus dawg I'm a grown man now
I ain't mad at that nigga
But if a plane crashed and it only killed his lame ass
I'd be glad it's that nigga, nigga
Did Kay dirty now it's back to broke
Refund check she used that to float
Momma gets depressed falls in love with the next maniac
On crack use that to cope
Make a nigga smoke a whole sack of dope
Writing rhymes tryna bring back the hope
Try to ride the storm out and crashed the boat
Could've drowned, but I grabbed the rope
And there go you
And there go you
And there go you
Selling me dreams and telling me things you knew
And there go you
And there go you
And there go you
Selling me dreams and telling me things you knew
Sing
You got what I want
I got what you need
How much for your soul Anna
How much for your soul Anna
You got what I want
I got what you need
How much for your soul Anna
How much for your soul Anna
I hate rich niggas goddammit
'Cause I ain't never had a lot dammit
Niggas can't front on the flows you got
But every fucking verse how much dough you got
Homie, don't quit now, hear my shit and tried to switch now
Know you felt the shit just now, know you felt the shit just now
Ain't there more to you? Don't it ever get boring to you?
I realize deep down you a coward getting high off of power
Fuck it more to you, saw through you
And it made me ashamed that I played the game
Not for more money like Damon Wayans
Wanted the respect but it came with fame
I just wanted love but this ain't the same
I took a train down memory lane
And watched little Jermaine do his thing before he made a name
It's like Sony signed Basquiat
He gave it all he got, and now the nigga don't paint the same, damn
I guess he can't complain
All the money that be raining in
Spend a hundred thou for the chain again
Thinking old school niggas like Dana Dane
Probably kill for another claim to fame, my brain the same
Yeah, nigga, at least he ain't insane
At least he ain't insane
You ain't crazy, motherfucker, you're just afraid of change
That's new, maybe that's true
But listen here I got a bigger fear
Of one day that I become you
And I become lost and I become heartless
And numb from all the Ménages
Just one bitch don't feel the same no more
And Henny don't really kill the pain no more
Now I'm Cobain with a shotgun aimed at my brain
'Cause I can't maintain no more
Tad bit extreme I know
Money can't save your soul
But there go you
And there go you
There go you
Selling me dreams and telling me things you knew
And there go you
And there go you
And there go you
Selling me dreams and telling me things you knew
Sing
You got what I want
I got what you need
How much for your soul Anna
How much for your soul Anna
You got what I want
I got what you need
How much for your soul Anna
How much for your soul Anna
How much for your soul Anna
How much for your soul Anna
Writer(s): Christophe Hetier, Stephan Armin Haeri, Fabrice Regis Robert Dumont, Michael Anthony Giffts, Deborah Ann Anderson, Jermaine L. Cole, Ronald Eugene Gilmore, Cedric Brown
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