J. Cole’s newest album K.O.D. is an examination of the addictions that plague today’s communities. From drugs to sex to money and social media, Cole raps about vices that young people indulge in; primarily from the perspective of an addict. The glorification of sex, violence and drug abuse in combination with many of the flows he employs on the tape is meant to be reminiscent of those used by “new generation” rappers. As the album’s overall purpose seems to serve as a warning to youth about the dangers of over indulgence, perhaps the hope is that by adopting stances similar to the younger generation of rappers, his message will reach the audiences that has been most influenced by them. In celebration of the album’s release here's a list of some of the most compelling lyrics from K.O.D. 

Share your personal favorite bars in the comment section too.

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"KOD"

If practice made perfect, I'm practice's baby

If practice made perfect, I'm practice's baby

Platinum wrist ridin' in back like Miss Daisy

Platinum disc and I own masters, bitch, pay me

Y'all niggas trappin' so lack-sical-daisy

My nigga sell crack like it's back in the ‘80s

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"The Cut Off"

I send the bread and don't hear back for like two months now

You hit my phone, you need a loan, oh I'm a crutch now

I had to learn, I never had shit

You never would split, you was hood rich

I couldn't get a dollar from you I remember that

It was blurry for a while but now it's coming back (coming back)

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"ATM"

Proceed with caution

I heard if you chase it only results in

A hole in your heart

Fuck it, I take the whole cake and I won't leave a portion

It's only an organ

Thank God mama couldn't afford the abortion

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"ATM"

I flip my misfortune and grow me a fortune

My Rollie is scorchin'

Them niggas that hated is slowly endorsin'

Now Cole, he important

My niggas beside me like Tommy and Martin

We ball on your court then skate with your bitch like we Tonya Harding

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"Motiv8"

Please don't hit my phone if it ain't 'bout no commas

Keep the peace like Dali Lama, big body Hummers

Backin' out the parkin' spot and though the law be on him

He exempt, Shawn Kemp, he keep that .40 on him. Go!

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"Kevin's Heart"

Hate when I creep and the phone wake me up

Fake like I'm sleep knowing damn well I be up

Monkey on my back and I walk a hundred miles

Guilt make a nigga feel fake when he smile

Love get confused in the mind of a child

'Cause love wouldn't lie like I lie and it's wild

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"Kevin's Heart"

Wanna have my cake and another cake too

Even if the baker don't bake like you

Even when the flavor don't taste like you

So I'm back mobbing with the late night crew

All in your mind with fears that would come true

The back of my mind, the back of my mind was you

Wishing that I could blind myself from view

And only have eyes, and only have eyes for you

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"Brackets"

Yeah, I pay taxes, so much taxes, shit don't make sense

Where do my dollars go? You see lately, I ain't been convinced

I guess they say my dollars supposed to build roads and schools

But my niggas barely graduate, they ain't got the tools

Maybe 'cause the tax dollars that I make sure I send

Get spent hirin' some teachers that don't look like them

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"Brackets"

Better yet, let me decide, bitch, it's 2018

Let me pick the things I'm funding from an app on my screen

Better that than letting wack congressman I've never seen

Dictate where my money go, straight into the palms of some

Money-hungry company that make guns that circulate the country And then wind up in my hood, making bloody clothes

Stray bullet hit a young boy with a snotty nose.

From the concrete, he was prolly rose.

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"Brackets"

So right now, he got two on the way

Still sleep on covers in his mama house

She can't take this shit no more, she want him out

On the morning of the funeral, just as she's walking out

Wiping tears away, grabbing her keys and sunglasses

She remember that she gotta file her taxes, damn

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"Friends"

Fuck did you expect, you can blame it on condition

Blame it on crack, you can blame it on the system

Blame it on the fact that 12 got jurisdiction

To ride around in neighborhoods that they ain't ever lived in

Blame it on the strain that you feel when daddy missing

Blame it on Trump shit, blame it on Clinton

Blame it on trap music and the politicians

Or the fact that every black boy wanna be Pippen

But they only got twelve slots on the Pistons 

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"1985 (Intro to "The Fall Off")"

I must say, by your songs I'm unimpressed, hey

But I love to see a Black man get paid

And plus, you havin' fun and I respect that

But have you ever thought about your impact?

These white kids love that you don't give a fuck

'Cause that's exactly what's expected when your skin black

They wanna see you dab, they wanna see you pop a pill

They wanna see you tatted from your face to your heels

And somewhere deep down, fuck it, I gotta keep it real

They wanna be black and think your song is how it feels