Made It Out

Lyrics
[Intro] (d.a. got that dope) [Chorus] My dog fresh out the box He back to toting Glocks He catch a fit, then he back out there tryna shop for opps Niggas getting zipped for all that gangster shit they was tryna pop Niggas cannot slip 'cause the problem is that they would not make it out I made it out the trenches even though they had they doubts I made it out, now my car cost the same price as a house Racks, I'm thumbing them, ayy, ayy Got the pack, fell in love, that's my baby Got him on the streets with the throwaway Try to slime me, blow his nose away [Verse] I want all the smoke, Mary Janе Chop with the scope, I'm bringing pain Can't love thеse hoes, they fucking for fame Just be fucking these hoes, I don't even know they name If you ask for my, you wouldn't even know the half I don't even pillow talk, I don't even like to brag Jumped fresh out, elevated my swag My nigga jumped out, went back to selling slabs Them niggas I know, they don't know how to dab All they know is cook, cut, hit the pot with a jab My other niggas scam, got rich off a laptop Ballin' hard for the crib, don't need no blacktop Drippin' in designer, I'm a Dior mascot All this cash money, I can make your bitch bed rock Dope dick, she sloppin' on it, ooh, Fentanyl Leave me for dude? Ho, you better not Fly lil' nigga, I could pull up in the jet now Came up quick, other niggas would've wrecked out Baptize the money, bank account real blessed now Thank the Lord I made it, I ain't gotta be stressed out Aiming for your head, no need to bring your vest out Bet he run up, fuck it, gon' knock your legs out Fuck a Hellcat, big dog, bring your Lambs out Stick in the hood, I ain't tryna throw hands now [Chorus] My dog fresh out the box He back to toting Glocks He catch a fit, then he back out there tryna shop for opps Niggas getting zipped for all that gangster shit they was tryna pop Niggas cannot slip 'cause the problem is that they would not make it out I made it out the trenches even though they had they doubts I made it out, now my car cost the same price as a house Racks, I'm thumbing them, ayy, ayy Got the pack, fell in love, that's my baby Got him on the streets with the throwaway Try to slime me, blow his nose away
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Credits
- Writers
- Kevin Mars
- d.a. got that dope
- Daniel Levin
- Chris Love
- Jackboy