Chiddy Bang - Get Up In The Morning lyrics

Chiddy: Yo what up?
Friend: Chiddy Bang, how you doin’?
Chiddy: Chillin’ man, chillin’
Sleepin all day
Friend: (Laughs) Wake up man, we got some shit to do, I got a meeting set up here in New York, so gotta get on that bus get up here
Chiddy: Alright, I’m comin’
I’m comin’ right now friend: You good?
Chiddy: Yea, I got it friend: Aight man
I’ll see you in a little bit
Chiddy: Aight homie

Get up in the morning like
Don’t you feel the power?
Stand up and stretch together and by the hour
I devour a beat, now the rap game ours
Fresh and so clean
Be making raps in the shower
Yeah, then I hit the boy Xaphoon
He tell me, "Pro
You don’t know I’m making mad tunes?"
And they wonder why we modest I assume
I remember we recorded in a
Closet for our room now I’m grinding
Oh yeah this is perfect timing
We machine, not hype
They figure we may be climbing
But like a punishment, gotta be grounded
I get up in New York
My parents are so astounded
Get up in the morning, and then I hit up Ant
Anything you can accomplish, man
She’ll never say "can’t"
And I got the drive, my 9-5
They kill your dreams but you
Gotta keep the grinds alive

Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me, the Israelite
Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me, the Israelite

Yea, hey yo, I get up
After that I get it all lit up
Feel I got next might as
Well be playing pick up
When I get up in the morning
See my shortie might be calling
The Man on the Moon, got a buzz like Aldrin
Trust me those records so connected
Like the cable is check it the record
Keep it Epic like the label is
They heard your beat in Germany
What can you do? And when I’m getting up
That’s night time for you
Right I’m the glue
That mean I got that really sticky
Now we be bringing quarters back
I got that really Vicky
She thinks she’s really with me
But she ain’t really with me
Ryan Howard with sour I got
The Phillies with me
Never abandon him, old war tactics
Bring a cannon in
Rap is at a stand still, mannequin
Cool on the floor, born a persona
If that is the kicks
Trust me I’m preferably store owner
When I get up

Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me, the Israelite
Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir
So that every mouth can be fed
Poor me, the Israelite