Before The Crown

Intro

Nobody knows my name yet.

Good.

Verse 1: J. Cole

Let me tell you what's about to happen to this rap game,

coming out of Fayetteville with nothing but a last name

and a hunger that survived the label and the Ville and the dark —

survived the floors in New York and the bleeding of the heart

that almost quit in a parking lot on a Monday —

I been building in the basement since before your favorite one day

artist even picked up a pen, since before the deal

was something I could dream about, since before the real

cost of this was something I had fully understood.

Now I understand it.

Every single fucking piece of it.

And I'm still here.

Nobody put me on, nobody cleared the path,

nobody handed me the stage or did the aftermath

of all the work — I did the work in the dark alone,

I did the demos, did the floors, did the dial tone

of a label that stopped calling after two years of my life —

I did the Fayetteville nights and came back twice

as sharp, twice as hungry, twice as certain of the crown —

and the crown is mine.

Not given.

Not inherited.

Not handed down.

Earned.

Verse 2: J. Cole

I don't need a cosign, I don't need a feature,

don't need a radio single or a label or a preacher

telling me the timing isn't right —

I been waiting on the timing since I first picked up the mic

at fourteen in a bedroom in North Carolina cold,

been waiting while they told me I was too raw and too bold

for whatever the fuck they were building — building meaning safe,

safe meaning profitable, profitable meaning erase

everything that makes you different and fall in line.

Nah.

I been drawing outside every single line

since before they had a box to put me in —

and now the box is gone and I am beginning

something that this industry ain't ready to receive,

something built from everything they forced me to believe

was impossible — impossible meaning Fayetteville don't make stars,

impossible meaning where you from don't produce these bars,

impossible meaning nobody's coming to find you, kid.

I found myself.

That's the hardest shit I ever did.

And now I'm coming for everything they said was out of reach —

every stage, every cipher, every lesson that they teach

in the schools they built to keep us in our fucking place —

I'm coming for the crown and I'm coming for the space

at the top that they reserved for somebody else.

Move.

Verse 3: J. Cole

This is the declaration, this is the line in the sand,

this is Jermaine from Fayetteville finally taking a stand

after everything — after the label, after the floors,

after the Ville tried to take me back behind closed doors

of a life I left — I left for a reason,

I left cause the calling never stops its season

of pulling at the chest until you answer it completely —

and I been answering it since fourteen, answering it neatly

in every notebook, every margin, every 3am session

where the city was asleep and I was learning every lesson

the hard fucking way.

No more hard way.

No more waiting.

No more watching lesser rappers get the crown while I'm debating

whether I belong here — I belong here more than anybody

that they're pushing on the radio, more than anybody shoddy

with the pen and borrowed with the bars and built on a brand —

I been built on truth and hunger and a Fayetteville hand

that reached up from the concrete and refused to let go.

I'm taking the whole shit.

Every stage, every light, every flow

that they said wasn't commercial enough, wasn't safe enough,

wasn't whatever the fuck enough for their machine —

I am the machine now.

And the machine runs on everything they couldn't take from me

no matter how hard they tried.

The crown was always mine.

I'm just coming to collect it.