The Morning Testo

Featuring 2 Chainz, Common, CyHi The Prynce, D'Banj, Kid Cudi & Pusha T

[Intro: D'Banj]
Stuttering
Giving 'em rest and making love again
In my best I be the run again
And I have the man dem stuttering

[Hook: D'banj]
I'm getting this nigga in the morning He gon' think he been chiefing, just too long when
He see me in the evening, wanna catch all these feeling
Well let me be the first to get mine

[Verse 1: Rakewon]
Barbeque and blow in the back of the crib
Sitting and counting, smoking a spliff, this shit’s 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 it’s a statement
One freeze of this shit, you won’t feel your legs kid
I’m 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, I’m all machinery, ock Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock?

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Common]
I was born by a lake, chicken shack, and a church
That mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirt
Gawdly, I know she wanna test the 'Rari
Eye on a dollar like Illuminati
Life is foggy, tryna 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 it's ashes to ashes, dust to dust
In God we trust, the game is all us
'til the sky calls or it's flames on us, Push

[Hook]

[Verse 4: 2 Chainz]
2 Chainz
I’m chillin’ in my camo, flippin’ through the channel
On my GOOD Music shit, my logo’s a Lambo
Four doors of ammo, ammunition I’m pitching
To make your body switch another position

[Verse 5: CyHi Da Prince]
I hope the people is listening, I could never sell my soul
I gave it back to God at my christening
It's 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 ain’t never flip the nickel in
Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car
But you can’t spell war without an A-R
15 I was pushing carts at K-Mart
By 21 they said I’d be inside a graveyard
Can’t wait to get that black American Express
So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card

[Break: Kid Cudi and Kanye West]
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
GOOD woulda been God except I added more O's
If I knew she was cheatin’ and still bought her more clothes
It's 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’
Goddamn, we made something from nothing