englishHip-Hop, Trap, R&B
Amari Lyrics
by J. Cole
Lyricist: J. Cole
2 views • Published on Sep 24, 2026
Amari Lyrics
Bada-ba, bada-ba
Bada-ba, da-da
Off-Season
Let's work, hey
Plottin' my escape, this game rot a nigga's faith
Got a couple Ms hidin' in the safe
Imagination turned a Honda into Wraith
I was doin' eighty on the interstate
Tryna make it back before my class started
Country nigga never seen a passport
'Til I popped off and got a bag for it
Now I'm at the Garden sittin' half court
Watchin' Jr. catch it off the backboard
'Ville nigga never seen nothing
'Cept a fucking triple beam jumping
Good dope leave a fiend krumping
Made it out, it gotta mean something
Either you gon' hustle or that nigga Uncle Sam got yo' ass re-enlisting
2-6, murder scene pumping
Better leave it tucked if you ain't dumping
Pow, pow, nigga, he slumping
Twelve comin', we ain't seen nothing
Time change, niggas ain't rumbling no more
Nah, what for? Hungry for more
If you solo these vocals, listen close and you can hear grumbling
Multi' and I'm still munching
Big bag, never fear fumbling
Want smoke? Nigga don't choke
I'm a whole fuckin' nicotine company
Dreamville the Army, not a Navy
How could you ever try to play me?
Kill 'em on a song, walk up out the booth, do the Westbrook rock-a-baby
I never fall out with the bro
Hate when your family turn into foe
We had a penthouse on the road
Interior decorated with the hoes
Just like a multiple-choice getting chose
My niggas like "Eenie, meenie, miney, moe"
Scoop up a dime-piece like we homeless
Then we gon' send 'em back pigeon-toed
Out of the concrete was a rose and winters was cold
Had to go over and stand by the stove
We from the Southeast, niggas know
This where the opps creep real slow
Won't vote but they mob deep with the poles
I punch the time sheet, not no more
And now my assigned seat is the throne
Plottin' my escape, this game rot a nigga's faith
Got a couple Ms hidin' in the safe
Imagination turned a Honda into Wraith
I was doin' eighty on the interstate
Tryna make it back before my class started
Country nigga never seen a passport
'Til I popped off and got a bag for it
Now I'm at the Garden sittin' half court
Watchin' Jr. catch it off the backboard
'Ville nigga never seen nothing
'Cept a fucking triple beam jumping
Good dope leave a fiend krumping
Made it out, it gotta mean something
Made it out, it gotta mean something
Made it out, it gotta mean something
Bada-ba, bada-ba, bada-ba, ah-ah
Meaning of Amari
“Amari,” a standout track from J. Cole’s *Forest Hills Drive*, is a complex and layered narrative exploring ambition, escape, and the corrosive effects of the pursuit of wealth within a hyper-violent, aspirational landscape. The song unfolds as a feverish internal monologue, revealing a character – “Amari” – consumed by a relentless desire for upward mobility and a life beyond his current circumstances. Driven by a potent blend of fantasy and grim reality, he meticulously plans an escape, fueled by both imagination (“Imagination turned a Honda into Wraith”) and the tangible allure of illicit success (“Got a couple Ms hidin' in the safe”). Cole masterfully utilizes vivid imagery – from driving at high speeds to observing basketball games – to establish Amari’s restless energy and his detachment from conventional life. The lyrics are saturated with references to street culture, drug dealing, and the stark contrast between aspiration and potential consequence (“Either you gon' hustle or that nigga Uncle Sam got yo' ass re-enlisting”).
More than just a boastful recounting of success, “Amari” is a cautionary tale about the corruption of faith by material gain. The repeated motif of plotting an escape underscores a deep sense of unease and a recognition of the game’s inherent dangers. Cole subtly critiques the cycle of violence and exploitation that often accompanies ambition, while simultaneously acknowledging the seductive power of wealth and status. The song's raw energy, combined with Amari’s desperate attempts to carve out his own destiny – "Dreamville the Army, not a Navy" - ultimately paints a portrait of someone lost in a labyrinth of his own making, forever striving for something just beyond reach.
Tags:
j coletrap musicambitionhip hopescape plan
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