Credits

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Conor Grant
Conor Grant
Songwriter

Lyrics

I was chilling in that backseat Selling dope this past week Made a little bread But that shit was not enough for me Don't matter how you get it Why you care just how I'm living Hope you don't look up to me I'm writing while I'm shitting Bars getting heavy But them ceilings getting raised Worried about my rent But them bills is getting paid Look how much I made Catch me falling when I check out Malice at the palace Had me balling with the mac out 24/7 Struggle hustle every day Fucking on this bitch I don't even know her name 24/7 Struggle hustle every day Talk a lot of shit bitch you ain't getting paid Money is imbalance Fuck I look like taking hand out Do it with no practice Even when they yelling man down So I'm tired of the bullshit Tilting open holy packs guess I'm fully loaded So I'm worried about the revenue Yeah, yeah, yeah, nothing new Severed me a track Got you tuning in like super glue Oh, oh, oh, yo showing true colors Found out you a rat only fuck with me for numbers If I had no dreams would you even look at me Sprouting a new seed tell you what I really need Bottom of the trees climbing up is only fees So its destiny be the best that I can be I was chilling in that backseat Selling dope this past week Made a little bread But that shit was not enough for me Don't matter how you get it Why you care just how I'm living Hope you don't look up to me I'm writing while I'm shitting Bars getting heavy But them ceilings getting raised Worried about my rent But them bills is getting paid Look how much I made Catch me falling when I check out Malice at the palace Had me balling with the mac out 24/7 Struggle hustle every day Fucking on this bitch I don't even know her name 24/7 Struggle hustle every day Talk a lot of shit bitch you ain't getting paid
Writer(s): Dulce Maria Espinosa Savinon, Gonzalo Velazquez Schroeder Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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