What A Feeling

[Verse 1 : Hit-Boy]
This that pimp shit
This shit feel like some old late ‘90s type shit
The shit I grew up on, but I did the beat
Say hello to the young god of the game, popular name
HB, all I drop is the flame, nah, nigga we are not in the same boat
Car, plane, bus or a stage coach
Just a bunch of young niggas from the ghetto
Now the way they court us is resemblin Carmelo
Ballin, Don Perrion, keep chicks crawling, bossing
I ain’t talking dental but nigga, we stay flossing
Hands down, so the crowd keep their hands up
I live in a high rise, that’s why she keep her ass up
I’m the ghetto black trump, spread the word, spread the word
Me and my niggas are on now, roger that, Federer, never scurred

[Hook x2]
What a feeling, ain’t worry about much, just countin these millions
What a feeling, gettin top in the Benz, but it ain’t no ceiling
What a feeling, ain’t worry about them niggas that’s over there grillin'
Cause ya'll don’t really really want much
Y'all don’t really really want much

[Verse 2 : Price Tag]
This for the niggas that can't, never had a rank
But be going hard in the paint
Bout it bout it like a no limit tank
That’s a little dame, tell her to come up over here and plank
What a fresh nigga too addictive like mephamphetamine
These other rappers I’m better than
We’re going somewhere in my leather jeans
Coming up mad I never had a dad
Ridin' with my momma with no AC in that Cadillac
Went from trying get outfits, to youngins to in them house lits
Now the money coming like a baseball pitch, fast
Nigga, we all rich

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3 : Kent M$ney]
Hundred K on the block
Money all the time with a pay on the watch
22s caught an eye, but the funny thing is that I came and I stock
Got a raise but I drop, young nigga move around like I’m posed to
Fuck love, love tell me what that throw do, let a nigga coach you, then I can't approach you
My niggas knock niggas out Tyson
Your niggas, my niggas let bygones
My niggas make your niggas buy guns
From the pump if a nigga speak with dry lungs
My taste high, this weed loud, I’m ignant, I’m getting it
Ringtones can’t imagine this picnic, nigga keep dreaming I'm feeding that figment

[Hook x2]

|Verse 4 : Oktane]
I ain’t even had to write this, grill on while I rap getting like this
You hear them niggas left click then right click
Runnin' around, always talking about my clique
See, these niggas won’t hold me back
Cause these niggas won’t hold these racks
Tell them broke boy stop it
Cause they ain’t gonna stop my profit, no
Hit got M's, I got Gs, you will take L's, cause you are not these
Young G's killing everything, Nazis
Last letter killed everything not Z
That mean A through Y is gonna die, while I count up this bread and ride out with Price
On the passenger side while your girl sending Jpegs
You niggas can’t defeat me like fake legs

[Hook x2]