Here Are the Lyrics to Dreamville’s ‘Under the Sun’ Feat. J. Cole, Lute & DaBaby

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"Under the Sun" is the first track from Dreamville's third compilation album, Revenge of the Dreamers III, which dropped July 5.

The song features J. Cole, Lute and DaBaby and samples 1963 gospel song "I'll Be Waiting for You" by The Argo Singers.

Check out the full lyrics below. 

If
You miss me
And you
Can't find
Me nowhere

I done seen it all, oh my God
Uh
I done seen it all, oh my God, I swear
Uh, uh

Nothing new under the sun, nobody fucking with son
I got a couple of sons, a couple of guns
A couple of n—as that bust up the party and fuck up the fun
She digging me and I'm cuffing her friend
She ig'ing you while we fucking for fun
I got her suckin' her thumb, that's my lil' baby
She call me daddy like grandmama baby
If this Sunday dinner, my hand on her gravy
I been on the craziest wave, if I'm on the stage
An M is my minimum wage
This ain't no kennel, behave
Niggas is with all that barking, we setting 'em straight
So in a way we the dogcatchers
How many bullets your dawg catchin'?
Sawed-off, raw dog fashion
Hauled off, hope God catch him, damn

I woke up for some money, ay, lil' bitch
Too many opps in here, tell me who you with, ay

Potato over my gun
I move in silence 'cause n—as be clocking my funds
When they should keep eye on they bitch 'cause baby girl coming with son
N—as be judging my moves, but please tell me, what have you done?
My cousin'll air out the party for fun
Pistol grips get to squeezing
Wish a n—a would like Liam Neeson
I don't even need a reason, loyalty over treason
Bitch n—a, come and see me
Put some respect on my name
What side of my city I claim
I try to stay in my lane
Took my advance and put a cold piece on them thangs
I'm Beatties Ford 'til the wheels fall
Know some n—as probably pissed off
Who would thought I made it this far?
Gold Mouf, bitch, fuck 'em all

I woke up for some money, ay, lil' bitch
Too many opps in here, tell me who you with

I just put diamonds on all of my teeth
Now they probably think I ain't intelligent
In the homicide unit interrogation
Asking questions, you know I ain't tell 'em shit
Bitches call me a jock, all-American
I'm at the top of my class with my letterman
I remember back in college, bitches knocking on my dorm door
I ain't never let 'em in
Now you know that that's cap, know I hit a few
Ain't no job, I'm selling gas like I'm Jiffy Lube
I had a freak, used to fuck while her boyfriend in class
I hit her from the back from like ten to two
No back and forth with these rappers
They mention me, dissin' me
No talkin' back, I won't mention you
Watch, when I come put that iron on your ass and I dip
They gon' want me to snitch in my interviews
I'm on fire, bitch, I'm lit, but I'm really cool
Don't acknowledge the shrimps when they ridicule
They don't come out after dark, bitch, I swim with the sharks
You ain't got enough heart, get a bigger pool
Wanna fight but he bigger, I ain't really trippin'
I reach under my shirt, grab a bigger tool
I got a Glock with a dick, let's get physical
They gon' be hollerin' out, "RIP," and they missin' you
They got me started, I might as well finish (talk your shit, n—a)
I'm from Charlotte, you know how these n—as do, Baby

I woke up for some money, ay, lil' bitch
Too many opps in here, tell me who you with
 

Lyrics licensed & provided by LyricFind

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Written by: Jermaine Lamarr Cole, Jonathan Lyndale Kirk, Luther Nicholson