Can You Feel It? lyrics

[Hook]
“Can you feel it?”

[Verse 1: E-40]
I got a plastic medicine container of that Afghani—peep
Brought rolling papers, no chemicals, no bleach
I’m about to be in there, to the point where I’mma blur my speech
After I finish this liter of yak and blow this eighth of kief
Mannish, don’t bother me, I’ll pop ya
With these 5-point-5-6’s, bust your medulla oblongata
That’ll stop ya, bring you up real proper
Spin you around like the propellers on a hiznelicopter
My name ain’t Harry, but I’m a Potter
My mouth hella dry, I need some water
One day I know I’mma die, forgive me Father
But I’m living for now, forget tomorrow
I’m a product of my environment, so I ain’t thinking about retirement
I’mma continue to push this yay, f*ck a 401(K)
I f*ck on squaws every day, and I get my helmet ate'n
Parole violator, my agent hella be hatin’

[Hook]
“Can you feel it?”

[Verse 2: B-Legit]
I’m high as gasoline off promethazine
And my whole team, we lean in them Cut’ Supremes
I keep a couple things, plus a mask or two
A 40 Glock with a dot in case I have to
I might blast through, chop it up and bounce
My little homie, he be on me, say I owe an ounce
I tell him ‘Catch me in the morning with your bank account
And I’ll just take it off the tab when you cash me out’
I do the mass amount of numbers, I’m impeccable
And I ain’t even gon’ lie, I’m off them edibles
You see, my n*ggas come through, they buy them vegetables
And out-of-town muthaf*ckas need their medical
I put the work in, I get them dividends
And them Benjamins become a n*gga’s best friend
And everything I’m in, you know it’s off the hinge
It feel good when a real n*gga win—say it den
[Hook]
“Can you feel it?”

[Verse 3: E-40 + B-Legit]
“Go on and get your f*ck on”—that’s what I told her
I don’t want her triflin’ ass no more, y’all can have my leftovers
I ain’t finna be head over heels over no broad, mayne, I’m too fly
I bait my hook up for another fish to fry
See, when a dude f*ck hella broads, he’s a player
But when a broad f*ck hella dudes, she’s a sl*t
And you wanna know what else—you wanna know what? (What?)
I find out that she was f*ckin’ on one of the homies, I’m f*ckin’ ’em both up
I tell b*tches where I’m from to leave their feelings at home
And if they’re listening, they probably ain’t feeling this song
But am I wrong? Standing there looking at me crazy
I’m never f*ckin’ you when these other b*tches pay me
Already with the baby, come on with them dollars
I’ll show you where they’re going, then them other hoes’ll follow
I’m off in my Impala, 9-fin exact
I just revamped that, put them 10’s in the back

[Hook]
“Can you feel it?”