Make Em Feel It (feat. Trae)

[Hook]

We gon make, you niggaz feel this

Put your hands in the air, and pump your fists

Make you tear the club up everytime, we spit

So listen to this real shit

[H.A.W.K.]

I'ma make 'em feel it, like you feel the holy spirit

When you hear it you fear it, and your mind can't clear it

You hear it, now bob your head

You heard what I said, get wild like a bull seeing red

Why you acting like you scared, throw your hands in the air

And shake your derriere, for this Southside playa

Beware, of the lyric content

Cause shit is my scent, and it's highly evident

These cats got me bent, they must be crazy

I rock like Jay-Z, and these labels they pay me

You lazy, and out of your belligerent mind

To think your cash flow, is equivalent to mine

I done waste time, on wine and dine

I spit rhymes and grind, and meet my deadline

I'm smart like Einstein, the savior of mankind

I flow like enzymes, and I'll blow your mind

[Hook]

We gon make, you niggaz feel this

Put your hands in the air, and pump your fists

Make you tear the club up everytime, we spit

Cause we gon make you feel this

We gon make, you niggaz feel this

Put your hands in the air, and pump your fists

Make you tear the club up everytime, we spit

So listen to this real shit

[Trae]

Ain't no fucking with us, take it out cock it we bust

Deep down in Texas we tough, tear the club up niggaz we rough

You don't wanna plex with us, raw and untamed better ride with a AK

Keep a bitch nigga saying mayday, and I will spray for the pay day

In the worst way like a Maab nigga, for the eight nigga I'ma split a nigga

Like a throwed verse, lyrically leaving a nigga in a hearse

I'm a thug and a renogator, and a Southside hood waver

A 84 block skater, and a bad ass bitch invader

We so thoed but solo, united for cash

When I'm in my fo'-do' my trunk glow, with S.U.C. on my dash

At a club we roam knocks, in the hood we bleed blocks

In a car we ride drops, on cock with a missing top

Lil' Trae Guerilla Maab, with H-A-W-K

From red to blue or grey, my niggaz we don't play

From shining to throwing bows, we platinum on down to gold

And living out of control, to keep it crunk fa sho

[Hook]

[H.A.W.K.]

Abra-cadabra, hocus pocus

Sit back and feel, this explosive dose

A lyrical hypnosis, is what I put you in

And time and time again, I do damage with a pen

A lyrical time bomb, and I'm bound to get you sprung

And if you ain't feeling this, then your body is numb

Like Nelly I'm number one, or numero uno

The size of a sumo, more vicious than Kujo

More styles than judo, and I got room to throw

I'm thugging like Fat Joe, and I'm watching my thoed grow

I move in slow-mo, and blowing on do-do

On 20's and squatted low, and on locks I tip-toe

And for my lil bro, I'ma mash the gas

Collect the cash, and move the Benz up another class

The greatest like Ali, on the grind like Bun-B

And the words that I use, make you say golly

[Hook]