Didn't Get Far (feat. Fabolous)

Mm, mm-mm, mm-mm Yeah, yeah Big bag like Santa Claus (Hitmaka) that loopy wave Yeah, baby (yeah, baby) The aroma smell like that Dyckman hookah (Dyckman hookah) Montega, haan Black coffee, the glasses same color molasses Same night at the Aspens (ah), mami shakin' asses Far from the hood but close enough to caption (yeah) Not the 'Gram one night thousand grand (yeah) You do the math She won't bounce back even if I threw the pass Lion Head, Medusa mask, haan (haan) I hit the bottom and flip I got juice, you can bottle me up (bottle me up) And sell me for a lottery pick (ah) We live like the Vikings, you ain't gettin' far If you confuse between the hoes and the wifin' Merge like a hyphen, it ain't about the money (money) I ain't tryna lose the excitement Montana Wouldn't get far I tried but I wouldn't get far My bad that I didn't get far It's my fault that I didn't get far I tried but I didn't get far My bad that I didn't get far (you see, everybody ain't gon' make it) My fault that I didn't get far (it's a fact of life and you gotta respect that) I tried, but I didn't get far, didn't get far (but don't let it hold you back though) Look, for the hood niggas front of bodegas in leathers (yeah) For the bad bitches dressed in Bottega Veneta (yeah) This that real shit that you bootleggers could never (could never) This that cold summer, this ain't no regular weather (woo) We made positives out of a negative era (for real) Boys I'm runnin' with, we used to play Sega together (for real) You can catch me and French out in Vegas for cheddar Beat the streets and got paid like McGregor, Mayweather Uh, pray when I get in the car 'Cause a lot of niggas tried, but they didn't get far You know the alphabet boys always spittin' them bars Gotta stay on your P's and Q's when you're settin' them odds And that's why I'm in the Cullinan (yeah) With the shotguns where you stick the umbrellas in, I hope it don't rain Streets got love for me, hope it don't change But I know they take shots with a scope at close range Like I know these fly bitches love open-toe wings And the money change shit like remote controls, man (man) Came through all-white, poppin' gold chains I was givin' out shit like the Oprah show came (look) Drip can't save you if they aimin' to kill it They'll shoot at the low goal like they Damian Lillard (uh) This goes out to those who should've got further Locked up or got murdered, I gotta do it since Wouldn't get far I tried but I wouldn't get far My bad that I didn't get far It's my fault that I didn't get far I tried but I didn't get far My bad that I didn't get far My fault that I didn't get far I tried, but I didn't get far, didn't get far