Classic Feel Lyrics - Troy Ave

Classic feel 

Rubber grip or the plastic feel 

This that Brooklyn shit, this is nothing new 

This that safety off with that engine on 

Mercedes Benz, good watch, scene above them all 

How he got money when he aint have a job in so long? 

This that hustler shit, that independent grind 

That nautical sweat suit and white ones gold shine 

Barbershop twice a week, stay sharp and in shape 

Aint share it with you, trim your hair, underneath a killer 

This that first hand shit, Maybach, tinted windows 

Not gonna rap about it but really seen it from my window 

This that fine line between jail and my crooks 

My bedroom at my mama house smelling like coke 

This that gambling spot, stop that, shooters at 

Mad showing off with three birds in the backpack 

Plenty trains on bitches, no names or pictures 

Trap it low so she brought more things to fuck with us 

This that half off credit, shit we dont respect 

We just dead in them if they try to do 60% 

This that other 40% that minority flow 

When all the achers sell hearts and only you sell blow 

No pain, no gain, I profit of cane 

Give a fuck who we slaying as long as my team remain 

This that violating, yall will meet your death 

This that vile cover, nigga, east versus west 

Classic feel 

Rubber grip or the plastic feel 

Classic feel 

Rubber grip or the plastic feel, nigga 

Its that motherfucking classic feel 

Rubber grip or the plastic feel 

Classic feel 

And if you get it like me you can tell its for real 

Now if he say I aint hot I probably fucked his girl 

Or did violence to his homies, took em up out this world 

Bruce Lee sure, only nigga with that glow 

Yes, we rock it, nigga Im the CEO 

Most of these other rap niggas? They done seen before 

MC for all, how the fuck you get my number and all? 

Over line, this momma loves me, she proud of her kid 

Used to call me like, The cops here, dont come to the crib! 

A bad boy, a more gangsta version to shine 

My city all stay and I aint even get in my prime 

Still getting that cake, a pill bury snow 

On the real, fuck your opinion, I made it this far and you broke 

When I was looking for guidance spread the Bible apart 

But Exodus 20: 13 didnt shift my heart 

So I move in silence, all you hear is this pow 

See a flash fore you pass, a light in the dark 

What a sight in the chop, yeah, thats DOA 

I know I look like Im balling but nigga mean, no play 

Im bout my free, no lay, bags of chips 

So if you feel on this shit, baby, rub on your tits 

Classic feel 

Rubber grip or the plastic feel 

Classic feel 

Rubber grip or the plastic feel, nigga 

Its that motherfucking classic feel 

Rubber grip or the plastic feel 

Classic feel 

And if you get it like me you can tell its for real 

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