The Morning Lyrics - Cruel Summer - G.o.o.d. Music

[Intro: D'banj] 

Stutterin' 

Givin'em rest and makin' love again 

In my best I be the run again 

And I have the man dem stutterin' 

[Hook: D'banj] 

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 

[Verse 1: Raekwon] 

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? 

[Hook] 

[Verse 2: Common] 

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 

[Verse 3: Pusha T] 

Some claim God body, blame Illuminati 

All cause his pockets now knotty as his hair 

Yeah 

All Sonny no Cher, only solitaires 

You clusterfucks could cluster up 

On tippy-toe and still not muster up so it's 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust 

In God we trust, the game is all us 

Til' the sky calls or it's flames on us 

Push 

[Hook] 

[Verse 4: 2 Chainz] 

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 

[Verse 5: CyHi da Prynce] 

I hope the people is listening 

I could never sell my soul, I gave it back to God at my christening 

It's tickelin' when I hear what haters be whisperin' 

What makes you think an Illuminati would ever let some niggas in? 

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 

[Break: D'banj (Kanye West, Kid Cudi)] 

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) 

[Outro: Kanye West] 

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 bottom whore- 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