Lyrics Feeling It - Edgar Oceransky , Tarang Nagi

(Mokuba Lives Beats)

Been missing, I ain't feeling it
Bro told me hit the bando and keep killing it
They took my bros, fuck the judge, fuck the silly CIDs
I hit the corner shop, two Zanco's, sim and chip
When I hit the lick, I get thoughts of the dead
Same time bro-bro sauced up a neck
I probably gotta get my mind sorted a second
But Ash need me, keeps calling again

Suttin' got candid, that's where the cliff hangs
The weekend pops, ain't talking no wristband
I could've text her and done me a quick two
Them niggas so prang, they slapping they shit bands
And Johnny text back, he told me my shit bangs
But I already know, I ain't gonna reply back
My pack half brown, half white, it's a ice wrap
I really put work in the floor in the high flats

I should've never forced myself on the fast train
But we was 15 with raps of the class A
And now they're gonna lie for the hookers on IG
They gave bro life and that's why my heart ache
Cah I was in class assaulting my classmates
And then my nigga lied, I got issues with my trust
So me, M's hit the tizzy on spring break
I ain't even 20, my nigga, I fling grub

Fuck fist fights, you touch me, I swing this
Civils can't help him, watching him sinkin'
I'm probably with K36 or Jim Jibz
Cah I don't know what you other niggas are thinkin'
And you ain't got five in your junker drinkin'
Do it like Mike or Myth when I swing this
And suttin' ain't right, but I couldn't be right
Cah suttin' got diced 'em, just limping

My sim jam packed, I got fiends in the doorway
I tell 'em double that like I leaned on pure ye
He choking out, he can't breath, this the powers
He been at it for hours like he's battling a court case
Catting for the sorbet
Bro said I'm a rapper, I still fling it twenty-fours
Summertime, I'm comfortable, it's cling up in my drawers
Foot chase by the constable, they're filling up my ward
But I still raise my hand like I'm winning an award

I ain't sinkin', I got packin', everything in fashion
Gold my block for dutty and stiff chapping
He ain't on I, I know that it's just chatting
But either way I pattern the pattern, it get managed
Either way I pattern the pattern, it gets sorted
I mixed the pack with magi', I just bought it
We could've gone clear or clear the whole mortgage
But when they took T-Sav back, it all halted

Tell me what you need, we got sorts in a dozen
I'm sorting out my man, then sorting his cousin
The hood fucked, I could've been at war with my cousin
Then bro got life cah he tore up a suttin'
I'm painting you my story like I'm Dave or I'm Rapman
We make bands then the askaar 'nap gang
Fucked up the mots', the DVLA banned man
I need a mo' stack like Skamz and Clan Clan

My man ah bang, who you shaved up badman?
My nigga Rella pull up on dingers with live smoke
I got 'ed like Sheeran and Dave like Santan
So when I step foot in the mountains, it's no joke
I used to break weed 'til cuzzy the cook-cook
So I been on the mots', I don't know when I'm back home
Our mummy begs me stop switching up my phone
Cah she can't get through, she panics and call bro