Ro Blvd - Great Going Good lyrics

[Verse - Thurzday] This ain't no trap music, no illusion Co-sign abusin', false accusin' Their innocence, never dust up their fingerprints This that dark tints no lights--k**in' sh** Life membership, provoking with my penmanship Venom spew, that Angelou, sink in the throat of hardship Exhibit attitude, attitude, Los Angeles latitude, longitude Jesus in my view, plug my religion-- solitude [HOV?] in the lane, they gotta move Don't confuse these rap dudes with us few My hand glued to the Bible, with cement n***a -- that hard truth (Inglewood groove!) Your head chopped and screwed Feelin' and I'm knowing that we get it, got it going... [Hook] Feelin' Good (Feelin' good) Feelin' good (Feelin' great) I feel great Feelin' Good (Feelin' good), Feelin' good (Feelin' great) How are you (I feel great ) Feelin' Good (Feelin' good), Feelin' good (Feelin' great) How are you (I feel great ) Feelin' Good (Feelin' good), Feelin' good (Feelin' great) (How are you) I feel great It's going baby, it's going It's going baby, it's going (Feelin' and I'm...) It's going baby, it's going It's going baby, it's going (Feelin' and I'm...) It's going baby, it's going (Feelin' and I'm knowing that we get it, got it going, going) [Verse 2 - Thurzday] This ain't no trap music, it's something new My balls blue, Been waiting to bust on something That gangstas and Fivers can rock to Something to slap n***as acting too cool Whoops upside they head Got a Mr. Marcus facial for your hate That's growing like flatheads Thoroughbred with strong genes, and kings and queens Too s**y to shake a fake end I guess I'm right, said Fred No day can be in the red This all for the profit, dough in the pocket Flow I rock it, cop it, yo ears and hearts we lock it That Bobby Brown for your auntie and mama that jock it I'm money makin' Rico stop it Pull your skirt down, B Only fam around me Champion sound turn it up on ya street Inglewood groove, yo head chopped up and screwed Feelin' and I'm knowing that we get it, got it going... [Hook] [Verse 3 - Thurzday] This ain't no trap music, but you should f** with it Won't run your credit, it's on me for free Since my proof of worth, your love my paystub I know you hungry, his a delicacy, go on and grub Chef Boyar - dee - are, with a A-R That'll spray the officer, if I ever get laid off Gotta be promoted to the top of the cla** Captain of the prize a**, cash and gas As I snatch for the the gold, bronze no go So burned dough in my pockets, bro Worked too hard for a pa** on the metro Need diamonds for my daughter, [Ilo?], ditto And for the babies' mamas, bangers for the Chevys, Hondas Ratchet shaking, do-do mamas, calmer talk for the beauty parlors Feelin' good, feelin' great, young dude, C-A state Inglewood groove, your head chopped up and screwed Feelin' and I'm knowing that we get it, got it going [Hook]