The Morning

Album: Cruel Summer (2012)
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  • Stutterin' givin' 'em rest and makin' love again
    In my best I be the run again
    And I have the man dem stutterin'

    I'm getting this nigga in the morning
    He gon' think he been chiefin' just too long when
    He see me in the evenin'
    Want to catch all these feelin'
    Well let me be the first to get mine

    Ay yo, ay yo, barbeque and blow in the back of the crib
    Sittin’ and countin’, smoking a spliff, this shit’s a gift
    All my niggas watches is rough
    Grabbing our crotches yelling ‘’What up?’’
    The jeans cost 500 fuck
    Stop it, keep baking, see the smell it’s a statement
    One freeze of this shit, you won’t feel your legs kid
    I’m a gangsta corporate hustla, my voice is illustrious
    Hounded by vicious dons, nigga we armed, trust me bruh
    They yellin' Chef, kill the plate with the cooks
    I say 'Ye with 2 Chainz on, we Common, let's Push
    Burn another bush, then burn another we brothers
    Love us or not, the Mark Zuckerbergs of the block
    Hug a knot, staying rich, we was built for the guap
    Park the green six deuce on the deuce just props
    Rock a kilt, mean Glock I’m all machinery, 'ock
    Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock yo

    I'm getting this nigga in the morning
    He gon' think he been chiefin' just too long when
    He see me in the evenin'
    Want to catch all these feelin'
    Well let me be the first to get mine oh

    I was born by a lake, chicken shack, and a church
    That mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirt
    Golly, I know she wanna test the ‘Rari
    Eye on a dollar like Illuminati
    Life is foggy, tryin’ to see through the mist of it
    Could have been livin’ it, you was Mrs. Mischievous
    This is just a letter to, better your development,
    Situation delicate

    Some claim God body, blame Illuminati
    All 'cause his pockets now knotty as his hair, yeah
    All Sonny no Cher, only solitaires
    You cluster fucks could cluster up
    On tippy-toe and still not muster up so its (Ashes to ashes, dust to dust)
    In God we trust, the game is all us
    Til’ the sky calls or its flames on us, Push'!

    I'm getting this nigga in the morning
    He gon' think he been chiefin' just too long when
    He see me in the evenin'
    Want to catch all these feelin'
    Well let me be the first to get mine

    2 Chainz, I’m chillin’ in my camo, flippin’ through the channel
    On my G.O.O.D. Music shit, my logo’s a Lambo (damn)
    Four doors of ammo,
    Ammunition I’m pitchin’ to make your body, switch another position

    I hope the people is listening,
    I could never sell my soul, I gave it back to God at my christening
    Its tickelin’ when I hear what haters be whisperin’
    What makes you think an Illuminati would ever let some niggas in? Huh,
    Fake friends and siblings, like to wish you well but ain’t never flip the nickel in
    Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car
    But you can’t spell war without an A-R
    15 I was pushing carts at K-Mart
    By 21 they said I’d be inside a graveyard
    Can’t wait to get that black American Express
    So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card

    Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money nigga? (You sold your soul)
    Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money nigga? (You sold your soul)
    Yeah, you feelin’ on top now, getting that money nigga?
    (Naw man, mad people was frontin’ aw man, made something from nothing)

    I treat the label like money from my shows
    G.O.O.D. would’ve been God except I added more O's
    If I knew she was cheatin’ I’d still’ve bought her more clothes
    ‘Cause I was too busy with my Baltimore-you know
    Some people call that the art of war you know
    I guess it depends what you fallin’ for, the clothes,
    Cars, money, girls and the clothes
    Aw money, you sold your soul
    Nah man, mad people was frontin’
    God damn, we made something from nothing Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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