Classic Feel lyrics

[Intro]
Classic feel

[Verse 1]
Rubber grip or the plastic feel
This that Brooklyn sh*t, this is not the norm
This that safety off with that engine on
Mercedes Benz, good watch, scene above them all
How he got money when he ain't have a job in so long?
This that hustler sh*t, that independent grind
That Nautica sweat suit and white ones gold shine
Barbershop twice a week, stay sharp and in shape
In the chair, with the trigger hair, under the cape
This that first hand sh*t, Maybach, tinted windows
Not gonna rap about it but really seen it from my window
This that fine line between jail and my crooks
My bedroom at my mama house smelling like coke
This that gambling spot, stop bank, shoot it back
Metro North, with three birds in the backpack
Plenty trains on b*tches, no names or pictures
Kept it low so she brought more things to f*ck with us
This that half off credit, sh*t we don't respect
We just dead them if they try to do 60%
This that other 40% that minority flow
When all the achers sell hearts and only you sell blow
No pain, no gain, I profit of cane
Give a f*ck who we slaying as long as my team remain
This that violating, y'all meet your death
This that vibe cover, n*gga, east versus west
[Chorus]
Classic feel
Rubber grip or the plastic feel
Classic feel
Rubber grip or the plastic feel, n*gga
It's that motherf*cking classic feel
Rubber grip or the plastic feel (Representer of the O's & the pistols!)
Classic feel
And if you get it like me you can tell it's for real

[Verse 2]
Now if he say I ain't hot I probably f*cked his girl
Or did violence to his homies, took 'em up out this world
Bruce Lee Troy, only n*gga with that glow
BSB Records, n*gga I'm the CEO
Most of these other rap n*ggas? They the CB4, MC Gustos
How the f*ck you get my number and other line, this momma loves me, she proud of her kid
She Used to call me like, 'The cops here, don't come to the crib!'
A bad boy, a more gangsta version of Shyne
My city all stake and I ain't even get in my prime
Still getting that cake, a Pillsbury snow
On the real, f*ck your opinion, I made it this far and you broke
When I was looking for guidance spread the Bible apart
But Exodus 20:13 didn't do sh*t for my heart
So I move in silence, all you hear is the spark
See a flash 'fore you pass, what a light in the dark
What a sight in the chop, yeah, that's DOA
I know I look like I'm balling but n*gga me no play
I'm 'bout my Frito-Lay, bags of chips
So if you feelin this sh*t, baby, rub on your tits (ah-ha!)
[Chorus]
Classic feel
Rubber grip or the plastic feel
Classic feel
Rubber grip or the plastic feel, n*gga
It's that motherf*cking classic feel
Rubber grip or the plastic feel (Representer of the O's & the pistols!)
Classic feel
And if you get it like me you can tell it's for real