Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Feeling Like, artist - Kodak Black. Album song Painting Pictures, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 30.03.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Atlantic
Song language: English
Feeling Like |
I just pray to God, them crackers don’t come indite me |
I know if I go to jail, you prolly never write me |
I be thinkin' like, «None these bitches really like me» |
I be feelin' like you only want me 'cause I’m icy |
I just pray to God, them crackers don’t come indite me |
I know if I go to jail, you prolly never write me |
I be thinkin' like, «None these bitches really like me» |
I be feelin' like you only want me 'cause I’m icy |
My lil nigga trippin', have the one catch a body |
He even dropped outta school, took it to his hobby |
I told him to just do it and don’t talk about it |
And once you slide, boy, you better hit everybody |
I’m livin' like a sniper, lyin' with the window cracked |
'Cause I’m about to see out the end |
I be chasin' paper but these ladies, they be after me |
And every time I talk to one, they gotta scrap a G |
All of 'em got a game plan on try to catch me |
Think about my life, every night I’m smokin' grabba leaf |
I think about my homies in the system |
I think about my homies 'cause I miss 'em |
I wish you could call me to come get you, my nigga |
You miss Christmas, my nigga |
You miss Easter, my nigga |
You missin' out on your children |
The streets vouch for me 'cause rappin' what I’m livin' |
I rap the way I rap 'cause I be rappin' what I’m feelin' |
Lil Kodak I’m gone |
I just pray to God, them crackers don’t come indite me |
I know if I go to jail, you prolly never write me |
I be thinkin' like, «None these bitches really like me» |
I be feelin' like you only want me 'cause I’m icy |
I just pray to God, them crackers don’t come indite me |
I know if I go to jail, you prolly never write me |
I be thinkin' like, «None these bitches really like me» |
I be feelin' like you only want me 'cause I’m icy |
Yo, my daughter got a nanny for her other nanny |
Bitch, I made it out the hood, motherfuckin' Grammy |
Two mil on wheels, that’s in my garage |
Wish Granny could see me now, bitch, I’m livin' large |
Trip to Lauderdale, reupped in Parkway |
50/50, make it back, that’s what the odds say |
Y’all pray for us, we on the turnpike |
And if them lights get behind us, I’ma burn rubber |
See niggas lose they life, nigga lose their minds |
Niggas get to like you, nigga left behind, woo |
These niggas love to hate but shit, I love the grind |
And ain’t no lookin' better, just a waste of time |
Long, live, fresh, these niggas ain’t right for ya |
But keep it real, hey, who really down to die for ya? |
All I know is that these chains take a way this pain |
Scrapped up in the 'rari in designer frames |
Mad luck just hit the last house |
My paranoid ass Bentley, got the cash out |
I feel like niggas don’t want me to be great |
Until you’re made but they’re inside, G’s fake |
Thank the Lord, I got blessed with some trap money |
But the devil got me workin' for this rap money |
They tried to stop me livin' good, I’ma die today |
Rich nigga from the hood, I’ma die that way |
I just pray to God, them crackers don’t come indite me |
I know if I go to jail, you prolly never write me |
I be thinkin' like, «None these bitches really like me» |
I be feelin' like you only want me 'cause I’m icy |
I just pray to God, them crackers don’t come indite me |
I know if I go to jail, you prolly never write me |
I be thinkin' like, «None these bitches really like me» |
I be feelin' like you only want me 'cause I’m icy |