In the quiet hours before dawn, when reflections hit hardest, J. Cole has a way of unraveling the human condition like few others in hip-hop. His latest drop, “DISC 2 TRACK 2,” isn’t just a song—it’s a rewind button on existence itself, pulling you backward through the triumphs and fractures of a life lived under spotlights. Released mere hours after teasing The Fall-Off, it captures Cole at a crossroads, dissecting fame’s hollow echo with the precision of a surgeon who’s seen too many scars.
Lyrics of DISC 2 TRACK 2 by J. Cole
[Intro]
Yeah
Uh
How I See It (How I See It)
Yeah
Listen
Uh
[Verse]
I Persevered Through The Worst. My Thirst To Adhere Is A Curse
My Life, I See It In Reverse. I First Appeared In A Hearse
The Driver Steered To The Church
My Grandkids Carried A Coffin To The Altar As They Burst Into Tears From Their Shirts
The Tears Rise To The Sides Of They Face And Into Their Eyes, It’s Piercin’ With Hurt
Fast Forward Sixty Years, I Got Verse Of The Year. My Purpose Is Clear, It’s To Murk
Whoever Dare Flirt With Death
The Best Alive And What You Now Hear Is The Work
The Inspiration Was Rare And In Spurts But When It’s There, I’m Immersed
My Experience Of Bein’ A Parent, Dispersed
Watching My Son Disappear As I Stare At His Birth
And He Returns To The Womb, Wifey Stomach Growin’ Greater In Girth
And They Declinin’ Every Time We Come Here, To The Nurse
With Each Day That Passes, I Could Feel My Career Comin’ First
Do I? Took The Wedding Ring Off Her Finger
And Now, I’m Single, Walking Up The Aisle Backwards To A Narrower Dirt
Fallin’ Clubs Tipsy With A B**ch I See Clear Through A Skirt
The Cameras Be Snappin’, Blogs Be Yappin’, So I’m Careful, Alert
Walkin’ To My Section, Whisper Right In My Ear, We Flirt
We Part Ways. I See It From A Distance, She Stares With A Smirk
Cheers To The Perks With The Squad. We Live For The Search Of New Hoes
Lusty, Quick To F**k Me, Unaware Of Their Worth
We Leave The Club, Drive To The Show, And I Swear That It’s Turnt
It All Begins With Encore Cheers From Those Wearin’ My Merch
Fast Forward Through Years Of Rehearsal, Losin’, Winnin’
Bank Account Thinnin’, Income Streams Nowhere Near As Diverse
And Though I’m Blessed, I See Me Stressin’ From Hearin’ The Chirps Of Naysayers
Who, Only Days Later, I Don’t Care To Convert
On Cloud Nine, Now Signed To My Hero
One Of The So-called Kings Of This Rap Thing That I Swear To Usurp
Decade Later, Momma Cut On The Cable
My Motivation To Be Greater Ends The Moment I Peer In Her Purse
I’m Growing Shorter, Pampers Cover My Hind Quarters
I Watch My Father Walk Back In My Life And It Clears Up A Hurt
I Couldn’t Explain, Momma Gives Me My Name
Then Hands Me Over To The Doctor And I Watch As My Spirit Reverts (Na, Na, Na)
Then, I’m No Longer Here On This Earth (Na, Na, Na)
Mm (Na, Na, Na)
I’m No Longer Here On This Earth (Na, Na, Na)
That’s How I See It, Mm
[Outro]
I’mma C— I’mma— I’mma Come In
About “DISC 2 TRACK 2 by J. Cole”
J. Cole flips the script on legacy with “DISC 2 TRACK 2,” a hypnotic rewind that unspools his story from the grave to the cradle—raw, revelatory, and ruthlessly real.
Diving into the track’s essence, it’s pure narrative poetry wrapped in minimalist production courtesy of DZL and Maneesh. Sparse piano keys and subtle percussion create this eerie, echoing void, amplifying Cole’s baritone as he traces themes of impermanence: the grind of fatherhood dissolving into ambition’s grip, relationships fraying like old tape, and success curdling into isolation. The mood hangs heavy, introspective yet urgent, like eavesdropping on a confession booth session set to a reversed heartbeat. It’s hip-hop as therapy, genre-bending toward spoken-word memoir without losing that signature Dreamville pulse.
The Fall-Off looms as Cole’s most ambitious pivot yet, a double-disc odyssey promised to chronicle his “decline” not as defeat, but as deliberate unmasking. Announced just yesterday for a February 6 drop, the album’s vision—equal parts confessional and conceptual—positions Cole as the elder statesman, trading punchline wars for philosophical deep dives. This preview teases that blueprint: vulnerability as the ultimate flex, with tracks like this one challenging listeners to question their own timelines amid the chaos of mid-30s reckoning.
The rollout hit like a stealth bomb on January 14, straight to Cole’s socials—no fanfare, just the video directed by Ryan Doubiago dropping unannounced. Shot in reverse motion, it mirrors the lyrics’ chronology: clocks spin backward, tears ascend into smiles, and Cole’s solitary figure retraces steps through empty arenas and family hearths. Views spiked to millions overnight, with fans flooding timelines praising the homage to Nas’s “Rewind”—a nod that feels loaded, given Cole’s arc from “Let Nas Down” redemption to this masterful echo. No label splash here; it’s pure artist sovereignty, fueling speculation on collabs and the full project’s sonic sprawl.
At 41, Cole’s in his renaissance phase, post-Might Delete Later mixtape proving he’s shed the pressure to compete with TikTok darlings. This track embodies that evolution—less battle rap bravado, more meditative mastery—slotting into his discography as a bridge between 2014 Forest Hills Drive’s hope and KOD’s cautionary tales. It’s why he matters now: in an era of disposable drops, Cole demands rewinds, forcing us to confront the reversals we all dodge. Whispers of a Nas feature on the album only heighten the intrigue, turning personal history into collective myth.
Fans are already decoding layers, from the “paranormal” unease of reversed births to the quiet fury of unearned kingships. As The Fall-Off builds hype, this single stands as Cole’s thesis: legacy isn’t built forward—it’s excavated from the end.
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