What A Feeling lyrics

[Verse 1 : Hit-Boy]
This that pimp sh*t
This sh*t feel like some old late ‘90s type sh*t
The sh*t 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, n*gga we are not in the same boat
Car, plane, bus or a stage coach
Just a bunch of young n*ggas 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 n*gga, 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 n*ggas 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 n*ggas 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 n*ggas 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 n*gga 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
n*gga, 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 n*gga move around like I’m posed to
f*ck love, love tell me what that throw do, let a n*gga coach you, then I can't approach you
My n*ggas knock n*ggas out Tyson
Your n*ggas, my n*ggas let bygones
My n*ggas make your n*ggas buy guns
From the pump if a n*gga speak with dry lungs
My taste high, this weed loud, I’m ignant, I’m getting it
Ringtones can’t imagine this picnic, n*gga 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 n*ggas left click then right click
Runnin' around, always talking about my clique
See, these n*ggas won’t hold me back
Cause these n*ggas 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 n*ggas can’t defeat me like fake legs
[Hook x2]