Feelin It

(álbum: You Know What It Is, Volume 4: Murda Game Chronicles - 2007)

Young Rob what's good my nigga?
Chuck what' up with you
Shit, in here holding it down man. When you gonna come see a nigga, put something on my books man
Yeah, I just shopped you something the other day, it should be getting to you. Like the next day or two
Yeah yeah, I'm fucking with you nigga. Bitch came to my fucking bail, came to my cell nigga said 'I had like 2.2 on my books. What I wanna buy?' Told that bitch give me a motherfucking million dollars worth of playboy books
You know I had to keep a nigga' books right?
Yeah yeah, you keep a nigga flodded man just wait 'till I touch down, I'm gonna be on some shit
You been writing in there?
Little bit, know what I'm saying on the walls and shit
Couple bars here couple bars there, been fighting and shit
You got something I could listen to real quick?
Shit, g-yeah. Check it

Most of these rap niggas be faking, I'm talking the throne chases
I diss 'em on any basis, throw Patrón shots to my face and
Stay blunted like jamaicans, the Marleys puffing the finest cheefa
Fucking the finest divas, if I have it I'd like to meet 'cha
Show you how I light the streets up, kill niggas that never speak up
You my fans, sit in the stands and watch me rip these beats up
Like a legend, feel my presence like the dead ones
If I die, my only wish is my face on some Air-1s (Okay, okay, okay)
My soul's curled, my baby mommas they drive 6s
As for my bitches there's other rappers out there that's tricking
My only mission was to sell a couple records
Buy a Bentley and drive reckless, a big medallion on my necklace
I 'seen Kane and Rakim do it, so much respect here
Hip Hop is dead because you new niggas don't get the message
I used to call names out, you niggas don't deserve it
So lame out, die from these bullets 'outta Game's mouth (ooh)

Yeah I've been here flexing my shit nigga I told you
Yeah I see your shit's on fire, nigga I know you got some more shit I can listen to
Shit, hell yeah check it

My flow polished, I studied the legends
Hip-Hop scholar kick knowledge get dollaz'
You got some work then holla
I'm on the block pitching, most of us got riches
Not tripping work hydraulics and fuck the hot bitches
Youngins don't stop wishing, if you got a block then flip it
Just because I'm a blood don't mean my niggas should stop cripping
We from the ghetto, we came up without a pot to piss in
We getting money staying blunted cause' the clock is ticking
You got a rock then pitch it, you got a Glock then lift it
Them G-Unot t-shirts make them niggas stop snitching
Forever balling I'm Jim Jones with rims
On that blue Aston Martin interior like my skin tone
Most of these rappers want me dead, shit I been gone
Too classic, move rapid, my jewels the blackest
The first 8 letters and everything that I stand for
Colder than a New York block, shut the damn door

Changed up your style up this shit, ooh-ee
Had to give the East coast niggas something man
You know I be on my motherfucking gangsta shit
Sometimes I just gotta' spaz out
Man, damn I can't wait 'till you're home, boy
You know man, it's like, it's just another year and half
I'll be good man. Need some pussy though, that's the main shit
Pussy and Patron

Niggas calling me back for an Encore like I'm Eminem
I disappear niggas like spinning rims who the fuck wanna war
Meet us at in the corner store, call it the hot spot
Where gangbangers throw hot rocks the boys coming So what
They pop cops, push them hot drops Hop out with them shirts on
And say we got rocks High-school drop outs
They're there to air the block out, stack paper like the OGs told us
(Ey come on my nigga I gotta go, gotta go)
We only chirp on Nextels don't talk on them Motorolas
Gotta' feel that (I gotta go pick up Brandy man, Chuck)
So kick back and listen to what I'm saying, picture me parleying (Chuck) I'm flipping bricks when you eating pussy you chicken shit
I fuck bitches on their time, I 'chall when they dime
Getting head under the table everybody stay calm
(Aww fuck this shit)
I'm great