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Here’s a good illustration of ingrained false modesty: a young English expat says he has “done rather well” with women from American dating websites, which may well mean that he has bedded every willing woman, from college freshmen to great-grannies, in his entire time zone.

Cole] Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I'm holding on desperately Runaway, runaway, runaway, runaway I'm holding on [Verse 2: J.

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A: Well, bike is first kicked than used and boyfriend is first used than kicked.

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Cole] Yeah Unbelievable, seen evil that not even Knievel know At age three I knew this world was three below Listen, even though my ego low, achieved the unachievable Imagine if my confidence was halfway decent yo This just in, fucked more bitches than Bieber though Still I keep it low, got my niggas on the need to know Basis, my manager back in the days was racist I was a young boy, passing skates and tucking laces Old perverted white man who told me, "Jermaine It's all pink on the inside, fuck what color they face is" Wise words from an indecent man Made me reflect on the times when we was three-fifths of them In chains and powerless, brave souls reduced to cowardice Slaving in the baking sun for hours just To see the master creep into the shack where your lady at Nine months later got a baby, that's Not quite what you expected, but you Refuse to neglect it, cause you Know your wifey loves you, thus you refuse to accept it That’s the type of shit that turned my granny light-skinned Rich white men rule the nation still Only difference is we all slaves now, the chains concealed In our thoughts, if I follow my heart to save myself Could I run away from fifty-mill like Dave Chappelle?