Credits

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Elijah James
Elijah James
Songwriter
Matthew Hunter Stotz
Matthew Hunter Stotz
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Benihana Boy
Benihana Boy
Producer
Benny Holiday
Benny Holiday
Producer
Stash Jonez
Stash Jonez
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Yeah They said I was never gonna get this far And I got so much more to prove Ain't no stopping now I'm here to build and empire Never expected to get this far Only been here a second (yeah) Still got awhile to go, I won't waste a second (nope) And don't get it twisted (nah) I ain't saying I came from the trenches (I didn't) But I'll still scrap if a bitch want to fuck with me Wear his bones for a necklace Look at me now mama (yeah) They like what they see uh huh (yeah) Even the haters moving up their fucking seats uh huh (uh huh) (it's crazy) Want a better view of what I'm bout to do to this beat uh huh And if you think I'm choking under pressure, go listen to the third CD uh huh (get it) I've been pulling the weight Keep the colt in the vault right next to the gold Rope chain soaked in champagne Silk ropes looking like Pope aye Still on that drill like Smoke See how this game unfolds Odds are stacked against still, yeah I know Never stopped me before When I'm stressed out I just toke Sit back and write the realest shit that could be wrote Record it, set fire to hoes and set the tone (yeah), like voicemail (what) This shit is probably set in stone (yeah) Searching for the Yellow Brick Road in case we haven't met before, now you know No one beside me, I'ma hold my own You won't deprive me of my soul, God Cause I'm a soldier never fold, God knows I hold my own Build an empire, get parents retired (yeah) Grab all attention, set the world on fire (yup) Hustle everyday, never getting tired (what) Don't ask me what I'm doing, just sit back and admire Buy loved ones new houses All the foreign of their dreams Sitting up on leather couches Stacking like a king You'd swear I'm selling ounces I ain't pushing product But impressing my accountant I'm the little prick you doubted Years later still got they eyes on me Said they like what they see Then say my music sucked so badly But I still get they streams They critique and I get laughed at Oh my, woe is me I didn't expect these chickens to get this foul poetry (fowl poultry) I'm just naming shit I hope to do in my eternity I don't care bout failing though It's not trying that worries me (true) My friends talking their second I don't even got first degree (nope) But yesterday I got a DM, some kid say he worship me That's why I put my struggles out there, to try to encourage the Not ones to feel so discouraged, like the old god damn me, yeah No one beside me, I'ma hold my own You won't deprive me of my soul, God Cause I'm a soldier never fold, God knows I hold my own Coming for they heads like Rambo Serving up that crack like a bando Can't tell me what I can't and I can do Talking behind my back's what a fan do I know this game like it's tattooed Get touched but you'll never come back through Go ahead and do what you plan to I'm one step ahead every time you flex Every time your odds go against you hoe Showing me your hand is a bad move bro You don't wanna go toe to toe You'll be lucky if you touch me I'mma run until I can't no more I'm gon' kill it like I went to war You don't want it, what you're looking for Pray you duck me, could get ugly Promise, be real, it ain't never gonna be fair I ain't never gonna derail, Now I gotta go hard till the break of dawn, better run from me See here, I could tell don't wanna be here Anyway you gotta be here So you better hold on, ain't nowhere to run from me homie I'ma a killer, killer Swear you never known not anyone realer When I hit my zone I'm a real don dealer Riding through your hood and they all chinchilla Shooters by my side and they all equipping Heaters like the hall never catch me slippin When you come to me better come right pimpin When I see the law then you know we dippin, you trippin
Writer(s): Matthew Stotz Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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