The Feeling

(Just a feeling, just a feeling

Just a feeling, just a feeling)

Light this shit

Let that bitch ride a lil bit

That type of vibe right now

Police at the cribs, we been trapping down the street

Multi-million dollar ****, double R stitched in the seats

Forgiato tires make the car sound like a Jeep

Fifty thousand in all hundreds, yeah, that money comin' neat

Trappin' like the '80s, gangster like my uncle

Tryna quit the lean, can't be a hustler and a junkie

Let my circle eat, can never watch my **** fumble

Stash the yayo in the tire, put the choppers in the duffel

Ain't 'bout who got it first, it's 'bout who get the paper longer

I'm really only worried 'bout the shit that make me stronger

Run that paper up like fuck the haters, we too focused

Plus we really having motion, peel money on promotions

**** out here dyin' 'cause that fetty hit too strong

Heavy bag, could've started little with that dog

The rap game bogus, have these **** in here told

I done seen Instagram turn real **** into trolls

Maybach in the winter, hold my Rollie out in traffic

You are not taking risks on your behalf, the **** lacking

Half a million dollars on a crib I got in Dallas

Real **** beat the odds, staying free my only challenge

Backend boys, ran on all the stages

I been through some shit, use the pain as motivation

Plain Richard Millie, bust the sides, it's the stainless

If I was selling cars, these **** spend they whole savings

Really stand on business, flood my kids up in ice

Never seen a jealous-hearted **** win in my life

Stood tall on all the shit I did, I got stripes

Thirty-two inch on the Audi, like a rig on the bike

Sittin' in the feds, in the celly, me and Rello

Deezy told me, said, "The bosses be the ones with understanding"

My daddy told me, "Never put a bitch before your family"

My brothers showed me how to throw the blick when you in traffic

And if them **** really wasn't with me when I was struggling

Fuck up out my way, and run aways, now we bubbling

Got on all my ice at all my shows, bitches nutting

30 round hang out the clock, leave his head right in his stomach

(Who taught you to please?

Who taught you to hate the texture of your hair?

Who taught you to hate the color of your skin?

To such extent that you bleach, to get like the white man

Who taught you to hate the shape of your nose and the shape of your lips?

Who taught you to hate yourself from the top of your head to the soles of your feet?)