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?