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The Morning Lyrics

from Cruel Summer

"The Morning" is track #5 on the album Cruel Summer.
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"The Morning" is track #5 on the album Cruel Summer.
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[Intro]
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
Sittinand countin, smoking a spliff, this shits 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 its a statement
One freeze of this shit, you wont feel your legs kid
Im 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 Im all machinery, ock
Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock?
[Hook]
[Verse 2: Common]
I was born by a late 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 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
[Hook]
[Verse 4: 2 Chainz]
2 Chainz
Im chillin in my camo, flippin through the channel
On my G.O.O.D. Music shit, my logos a Lambo (damn)
Four doors of ammo
Ammunition Im 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
Its 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 aint never flip the nickel in
Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car
But you cant spell war without an A-R
15 I was pushing carts at K-Mart
By 21 they said Id be inside a graveyard
Cant wait to get that black American Express
So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card
[Break: Dbanj (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. wouldve been God except I added more os
If I knew she was cheatin Id stillve 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

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