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 nigga
Double R stitched in the seats
Forgiato tires make the car sound like a Jeep
50 thousand in all hundreds
Yeah that money coming neat
Trappin like the '80s, gangster like my uncle
Trynna quit the lean can't be
A hustler and a junkie
Let my circle eat can never
Watch my niggas 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
Niggas out here dyin cause that
Fetty hit too strong
Heavy bag could've started little
With that dog the rap game bogus have the
Niggas in here told
I done seen Instagram turn
Real niggas into trolls
Maybach in the winter
Hold my rollie out in traffic
You are not taking risks on your behalf
The niggas lacking
Half a million dollars on a
Crib I got in Dallas
Real nigga 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 niggas spend they whole savings
Really stand on business
Flood my kids up in ice
Never seen a jealous hearted nigga
Win in my life
Stood tall on all the shit I did
I got stripes
32 inch on the Audi, like a rig on the bike
Sittin in the feds, 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 niggas 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 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?