Trae Tha Truth, Big Hawk - Make ’Em Feel It lyrics

We gon make, you niggas 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

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

We gon make, you niggas 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 niggas 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

Ain't no fucking with us
Take it out cock it we bust
Deep down in Texas we tough
Tear the club up niggas 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 SUC 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 niggas 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

We gon make, you niggas 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
We gon make, you niggas 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

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

We gon make, you niggas 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
We gon make, you niggas 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