featuring Audio Push & Kent M$NEY
(Verse)
This that pimp shit,
This should feel like some old late ?90s type shit,
The shit I grew up on, but I did it big.
Say hello to the young guy in the game, popular game,
HB, all I drop is the flame, nah, nigger, we are not in the same boat,
Care, plane, bus or a stage coat.
Just a bunch of young niggers from the ghetto,
Not a way they court us is simply court mellow.
Ballin, don Perrione, keep chicks crawling, bossing,
I ain't talking ditto, but nigger, 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 word, spread word,
Me and my niggers are on now, roger that, federal, never scurr.
(Hook)
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
(Verse)
This for the niggers that came, never had a wank,
But be going hard in the pink.
Roll about it like a no limitent, that's a little game, tell her to come over and play.
What a fresh nigger to a day, day of life met the amphetamine,
These other rappers I'm better than, we're going somewhere in my leather jeans.
I mean, man, I, I never had a dad, riding with my momma with no exit in my Cadillac.
Way for trying new outfits, young tick in them house lits,
Have the money coming like a baseball pitch, fast,
Nigger, we all rich.
(Hook)
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
(Verse)
Hundred k on the block, money on the time with the pay on the watch
22s got an eye, but the funny thing is that I came and I stuck.
Got a raise by the drop, young nigger move around like I'm posed to.
Fuck love, tell me what that throw do, let a nigger coach you, then I can approach you.
My niggers not niggers all tie sons, your niggers my niggers let buy guns.
My niggers make your niggers buy guns, from the pump if a nigger speak with dry lungs.
My tank is high, this weed loud, I'm eggling, I'm getting it,
Ringtones can't imagine this picnic, I keep dreaming I feed that segment.
(Hook)
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
(Verse)
I ain't even had to write this, grey long while I rap get it like this,
You hear the niggers left then right click,
Get around, always talking about my click.
See, these niggers won't hold me back,
cause these niggers won't hold these racks,
Tell them broke boy stop it,
Cause they ain't gonna stop my profit, no.
He got jems, I got Gs, you will take Ls, cause you are not these.
Young Gs killing everything, Nazis, last letter killed everything not see.
That mean eight to why is gonna die, while I count on this bread and write out with pride,
On the passenger side while your girl sit in jay pays,
You niggers can't defeat me like fake legs.
(Hook)
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
What a feeling, ain't worry about much, just count these millions,
What a feeling, get up in the Benz, but it ain't no ceiling.
What a feeling, ain't worry about the niggers that's over the grilly,
Cause I don't really really want much,
Yeah, I don't really really want much.
Hit-Boy, real name Chauncey Alexander Hollis Jr., is an American record producer, rapper, and songwriter born in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1989. Considered one of the most influential hip hop producers of recent years, Hit-Boy has collaborated with world-renowned artists such as Kanye West, Jay-Z, Beyoncé, Drake, and Nas. His production style is characterized by innovative beats and catchy melodies, often with a vintage touch reminiscent of the 1990s. In addition to production, Hit-Boy also dedicates himself to songwriting and rapping, releasing several mixtapes and albums in collaboration with other artists. Among his most notable tracks are "Niggas In Paris" (Kanye West feat. Jay-Z), "The Story Of Adidon" (Drake) and "What A Time To Be Alive" (Drake and Future). Hit-Boy has won numerous awards, including a Grammy Award for his production on "Niggas In Paris".
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