j cole weed

J cole weed

Advisory – the following lyrics contain explicit language:

Whats love got to do, go to do with it
I get a little taste then I’m through with it
Then I send it right back to you with it

Whats love got to do, go to do with it
I get a little taste then I’m through with it
Then I send it right back to you with it

[J. Cole – Verse 1]
Visionary play your position, no missionary
But yet I pack Gospel in the quotes I spoke
You listening to the most high like the Pope on dope
Now picture that
My poetry’s deep now fish for that
Only real niggas catch something, phoney niggas fail
Shit you gotta feel like it’s only read in braille
Both did the crime but his homie didn’t tell
So he f-cking bitches while he sitting lonely in a cell
Thinking well, what the hell I been on
They gave a nigga five then they threw another ten on
By the time I’m back on the streets like a bachelor
I gotta play the clubs like an old ass woman
Life is a movie, pick your own role
Climb your own ladder or you dig your own hole
Sit around crying thats like sitting round dying
You wanna touch the sky bitch you figure out flying


Nigga how high, so high that I could touch the sky
How sick, so sick that I could f-ck yo’ bitch
Nigga please, my squad stack plenty of G’s
And if your girl like to smoke we got plenty of trees

Nigga how high, so high that I could touch the sky
How sick, so sick that I could f-ck yo’ bitch
Nigga please, my squad stack plenty of G’s
And if your girl like to smoke we got plenty of trees

[J. Cole – Verse 2]
Hey, as the troubles of the world unfurl
My niggas hit the trees like squirrels
Tryna get a nut with your girl
Think I need to quit trying ‘fore some nigga out there try to hit mine
Karma for the karma sutra
A lot calmer when the ganja’s through ya
You need ya armour cause them niggas out here tryna shoot ya
Kinda crucial, police piranha, gon snatch you out that Honda
For stashing that marijuana
Yes, ya honour, I feel ashamed

Check Out

I broke the law but look I’ll never smoke or steal again
In your courtroom wylin’ out, I don’t mean to keep smiling
But right now I’m high enough to probably steal a plane
Man, just look at me, what if I couldn’t read?
Would you throw the book at me
What if I’m feeling sad, am I supposed to look happy
It’s been a long time coming
Tell my nigga roll me up something

[J. Cole ]
No I dont smoke, maybe once in a blue
When the tention gets thick than there’s nothing to do
Through the windows of my soul, open the blind
My eyes get shut but I open my mind

How high, la la la la
How high, hey hey hey
How high, yeah yeah yeah yeah
How high, la la la la

Is that a shot that you threw little man?
I understand, you frustrated career aint going how you planned
Make it worse, you’re friends, now when they talk rap
All you hear is “J Cole this” and “J Cole that”
It must be hard for your projects to take all that
I know your weak heart gotta break off that
Boy, look, Cole World this is your worst fear
I’m burning you n-ggas and I’m only in first gear
I’m serving you niggas this is only the first beer
12 months from now, you’ll be having the worst year
No tears for the haters, I’m still counting money
Cole aint dropping, thats real f-cking funny
Grade A dummy, sleeping on a nigga raps
Something like a mummy
But I’mma wake yo’ ass up
Something like your mommy on school day
I smoke two l’s with ya girl this is Cool J

How high
How high
How high, yeah
How high, yeah

Whats love got to do, got to do with it
I get a little taste then I’m through with it
Yeah I send it right back to you with it

Lyrics to ‘How High’ by J. Cole. Whats love got to do, go to do with it I get a little taste then I’m through with it Then I send it right back to you with it (How high)

How Hip-Hop Helped Me Quit Weed & Get Sober

The first time I smoked weed, it was already the beginning of the end. My brain rang like a lottery machine and said, “You like this. Why not do it all the time?” From that point forward, I smoked weed every day. I was sixteen.

I grew up in a small town on the east side of Cleveland. Kid Cudi graduated from our high school, but Gucci Mane was our God. We lived in paltry imitation of our favorite trap rappers; constantly smoking blunts, selling weed, and “robbing” other weed dealers—“robbing” meaning snatching a sack out of another dealer’s hand and making a mad dash for it. Eventually, we graduated to harder drugs.

Middle America was in the arm of the opioid epidemic, and we passed around Percocets like candy. I remember one party with my best friends where we dumped all the pills we had into a glass bowl—Vicodin, Oxycontin, Adderall, Xanax—and indulged until someone emerged from a bedroom and declared one of our friends had overdosed on lean.

Rap music soundtracked our drug usage. I don’t blame the culture at all—as Erykah Badu sang, hip-hop is truly “the healer,” and we were thrill-seeking kids devoted to our self-destruction. But when Kid Cudi, Gucci Mane, and Lil Wayne all seemed to smoke weed and do other drugs regularly, yet were the picture of talent, work ethic, and success, being an addict not only seemed okay, but cool.

My friends and I would gather around a MacBook and watch 2009’s The Carter documentary, which chronicled Lil Wayne as he recorded Tha Carter III. Wayne, then at the top of the world, smoked blunts like cigarettes and drank lean like orange juice. Therefore—according to our teenage minds—as long as you worked hard, you could do as many drugs as you wanted.

Years passed. I went to college in New York. My friends went to rehab or jail. Some became heroin addicts. Gucci Mane went to prison, and Lil Wayne almost lost his life and career. After seeing what happened to my friends, I swore off opioids but continued to smoke weed. Anywhere from three to seven blunts a day—to the face—by myself.

Weed is medicinal for so many people so it’s hard to acknowledge it can be a problem. But the effect marijuana had on my life was that of severe and powerful addiction. It crippled my productivity, evaporated my ambition, stunted my spiritual growth, gnawed at my mental health, and actively made me avoidant and selfish. Eventually, my bullshit alienated my then-girlfriend, and she broke up with me.

My breakup coincided with Future’s breakup with Ciara. That winter, he released Monster. I identified with him. The highlight of my day was coming home, rolling up a few blunts, and playing songs like “Hardly” and “Codeine Crazy” as my room filled with smoke. Numbness spread from my fingers to my neck like the viscous skin of Venom. Choked with grief, I could only move the blunt to and from my lips like a robotic arm.

I kept smoking weed. I smoked weed until I ran out of money and had to move back home to Cleveland. I smoked weed until my once-abundant job opportunities disappeared. I smoked weed until I lost the ability to write itself. My brain felt like a jigsaw puzzle that I couldn’t put back together. I was broke, unemployed, and depressed. But I kept smoking weed.

There’s a Korean proverb that I like: “Every person has to give up something to be great.” I knew, even when I was 16, that marijuana would hold me back. But it was impossible to imagine a life without weed. My brain had developed under its influence. How else could I go out to eat? Watch movies? Have sex? Hang out? Endure life? Besides, all the music I liked celebrated excessive weed smoking. No one was open about quitting weed or even having a problem with it.

In late 2016, Gucci Mane was released from prison. He then embarked on one of the most remarkable second acts in musical history, defined mostly by his sobriety—not just from lean, but from weed as well.

Around the same time, I began noticing something in hip-hop. Future didn’t do as many drugs as he claimed. A$AP Rocky admitted he “stops the smoking when it’s time to focus.” And every superstar with longevity—Kanye, JAY-Z, Drake, Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole—abstained from regular weed and drug usage, even if they had made songs about “getting high.”

The more I studied the game, the more I realized that an epic lie had been bagged, weighed, sold to me—and I inhaled happily. 50 Cent’s “High All The Time” was, at best, a metaphor—the man never did drugs. André 3000 quit weed in his early 20s to “get the signal clear as day.” Joey Bada$$ stopped smoking because he “couldn’t afford anything slowing [him] down.” If I wanted even a fraction of their success, it became clear that sobriety—the ability to think and act right—was essential.

I got sober in September 2017. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. In the time after I quit weed, I compulsively did coke, different psychedelics, and drank daily, before relapsing on weed and sobering up again. I got my first real job, nourished a savings account, made amends (as best I could) to my ex-girlfriend and friends, and healed my brain enough to begin writing again.

I can’t make amends to everyone, and I know I’ll always pay the price for my past. But I try my best to live right nowadays. Beyond sobriety, I’ve focused on spiritual recovery—understanding why there’s a hole inside of me, and the good things (like creativity and helping others) and bad things that fill it (like hoeing, drug use, and manipulation of others).

There are way more rap songs celebrating drugs than sobriety—such is the nature of what sells—but I’ve found a few songs to soundtrack my growth. “Same Drugs” by Chance the Rapper can still make me cry. The purpose-driven raps of Main Source, Tobe Nwigwe, and Raz Simone all help a lot. And yes, I will admit that I like “Not Afraid” by Eminem. I even made a song of my own about weed addiction.

One writer breaks down how hip-hop helped him get sober.