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That Feeling
Dave East feat. Profit
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Every day we looked up at the ceiling
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Watching ceiling fans go round
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
I started with ten spots
Stepping up my grind as my friends watched
My cousin had control of like ten blocks
Dreaming of seeing that Maserati mash soon as the Benz stop
I don't need a system to blast, I let my pen rock
I was in the basement before Tyga, come on nigga
Let's get this money, I'm more focused than drawing pictures
Spawn with ya, not a chance, protect yourself
The dope in my hood give you a feeling that you never felt
Looking up at the ceiling but now I'm level with it
Committing crimes in my mind thinking the devil did it
Get at your watch in a minute, look like your bezel glittered
They minding business where I'm from meaning I never did it
With my pencil and my paper I can kill a hater
Go from dead broke to counting a mill' in paper
Instrumentals play the theme of a million players
For now I'm putting in work, I'll do the chilling later
Every day we looked up at the ceiling
Watching ceiling fans go round
Trying to catch that feeling off instrumentals
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Every day we looked up at the ceiling
Watching ceiling fans go round
Trying to catch that feeling off instrumentals
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Holding my head, building my cred through bars and bag reefer
Get a job, but a sale my option, I scale Libra
Feds come around, all my niggas catch amnesia
Telling to me is treason, I turn my back like I'm leaving
Y'all shove me but I ain't eating, when this car gon' be a tour bus?
That bitch here for a reason, she asking me what I bought her
Hands soft, all I'm touching is paper and areola
I ain't fucking with nothing that's under quarters
Get your mind right before you step in this league
Cause niggas simp getting pinched like I'm stretching my weave
We up all night, I write and I write
Hoping to see a speck of the light
I'm highed up, air in the mic
You fly what? Scared of the heights
We ride up with the crack flow like a dry dust
Got a bad ho, is she fine? Yes, but no deal
I grind, yes, should've been blown like I fuck with the white
Gat or the pen, whatever that my grip hugs
Long as the crowd clapping like ass shake at the strip club
Every day we looked up at the ceiling
Watching ceiling fans go round
Trying to catch that feeling off instrumentals
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Every day we looked up at the ceiling
Watching ceiling fans go round
Trying to catch that feeling off instrumentals
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Envisioning Nino Brown and G-Money
Only my homie if you got nothing to keep from me
I told Nino I got him because the streets want me
Chasing C-notes and dollars in case my niece hungry
Old Timberlands, black hoodie, my jeans bummy
How high was I getting thinking I need money?
Trying to be the nicest, period, like I bleed monthly
Look in my eyes serious, move like the D's want me
Watching ceiling fans spin, blowing in the wind
Top ten kites in 'til my cousin locking in
Sing sing where he been and I got it right for him
Went to sleep to the beat, woke up to write again
Searching for the feeling that's within
Got me doing more feats than a march with a million men
Composition thoughts if paper could fill a pen
Down before the half, go hard and we still could win
We still could win
Every day we looked up at the ceiling
Watching ceiling fans go round
Trying to catch that feeling off instrumentals
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Every day we looked up at the ceiling
Watching ceiling fans go round
Trying to catch that feeling off instrumentals
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
Had my pencil, and plus my paper
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