Damn son, if this doesn’t cement Cole’s status as the next god o’ the game?!
“Return of Simba”  goes 4 minutes straight no chaser, hard at your belly. Double entendre’s, metaphor’s, punchlines all in, produced by Elite.
Anyone who puts “Oprah” and “weight” in a sentence without sounding wack or boring has to be uber dope, witness:

Yeah, I heard the hate, but the wait is f__in’ over/
It’s like I’m f__in’ Oprah, well worth the weight/”

Cole World is around the corner but it’s uncertain if this will make that album, if it doesn’t then we’ll have a murder on our hands summer ’11.
Complete lyrics added after the jump.

“Coal (Cole) under pressure/ what that make? Diamonds/”

In my freshest Js, I ain’t slept in days/
Girl, you gon’ make me late undressin’ me/
Know you ain’t seen me since yesterday/
But, see, I got a date with destiny/
‘Cause this the summer that our life change/
Hov asked me, “Is you ready for it?”/
I looked around at all his nice things/
Told him, “Nigga, you already know it”/

B__ch, I’m the man of the year/
Yeah, yeah, yeah/
Straight through this b__ch/
B__ch, I’m the man of the year/

What you ‘sposed to do when the OG niggas don’t get it?/
Lost what was once theirs but they won’t quit it/
Homie, it’s a new era, middle finger to the suit-wearers/
Lemme show you how to move in a room/
Full of dudes that don’t got a f__in’ clue how to do this/
Prolly worked with Cube, so to them, this a Rubik/
My President is black, but my jeweler’s still Jewish/
So you know it cost, he makin’ a killin’ off me/
Red diamonds he designin’ got me shinin’/
Spotlight cover my body, my chain blindin’/
A cop light runner, they wanna but can’t find him/
Me and Hovi Hov, out on the same island/
Took the whip to the other side of Jamaica/
Seen how he was livin’, said “I gotta get my weight up”/
Formulated my plan, motivated by dreams/
Parlayed wit’ my mans, motivated my team/
Ced said, “Look, my niggas, we got a foot in”/
Bein’ good is good, that’ll get you Drew Gooden/
But me, I want Jordan numbers, LeBron footin’/
Can’t guard me, Vince Lombardi, John Wooden/
Garbage? Hardly, you niggas silly like Chris Farley/
So like him, you’ll be gone too early/
Mama hands together like 6:30/
And Cole keep a thick b__ch I like to call Big Shirley/
All my ’90s niggas is gon’ get it/
18 and under, that’s prolly gon’ take a minute/
I’ma be here for a while, none of these clowns can hurt me/
I’ma be here for a while, none of these clowns can hurt me/
At the time of this rhyme, five years ’til I know thirty/
Cole World in the summer brings snow flurries/
This next shit is in no way to boast/
But my city love breakfast, ’cause niggas had toast early/
Coach had us doin’ jumpin’ jacks/
Then sent us to the water fountain after runnin’ laps/
My nigga went and grabbed his bookbag, threw it on his back/
And brought it to me just to show me he was f__in’ strapped/
We was twelve years old, how was we to know better?/
I analyzed his life and see that he was so set up/
Live by the trigger, ’cause no father figure/
Means you don’t got a nigga comin’ ’round to guide a nigga/
All you got is mama bringin’ home these rotten niggas/
Blowin’ reefers, all the teachers do is ride a nigga/
So this is who I speak fo’/
To give the young niggas somethin’ they could reach fo’/
You better dream, boy/
Yeah, I stunt, but I’m a li’l more realer/
When it come from the heart, don’t it feel mo’ iller?/
Watch my flow go bananas, I’m a li’l gorilla/
So pardon me, man, y’all gon’ have to pardon me/
They say I rep that ‘Ville too much, but that shit just a part of me/
It’s flowin’ out through my arteries, who hard as me? You JV, I’m varsity/
No field trip, ain’t hard to see, this real shit, you R&B/
Seen a movie wit’ yo’ b__ch in it, and listen it, was starrin’ me/
That boy Simba crazy/
Hotter that Ike Turner temper, you December, maybe/
And though you wish me well, I know deep down you wish I’d fail/
It’s Judgment Day, I’m here to give you pussy niggas hell/
And some food for thought, I can serve a plate/
Wit’ dessert to take, wit’ dessert to take/
Yeah, I heard the hate, but the wait is f__in’ over/
It’s like I’m f__in’ Oprah, well worth the weight/
Maybe over your head, I’m ahead of my time/
Niggas scared of my future, I know they dreadin’ my prime/
‘Cause I only made classics, now what that take? Timing/
Cole under pressure, what that make? Diamonds/


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