[verse 1 - trae the truth] i’m on a neverending vacation until my tires go flat or everything f-cked up and gonna fall off track picture me like a kodak re-up, nigga, they know that feeling like i ain’t got shit work in back of a throwback i’m cold up in this hallway hustling out it all day trying to get this money and that audi 8 in all grey haters say it’s over but you can tell them i’m busy professor with the books ? with a smith &a wesson trying to make it to the top, 100,000 miles away somewhere in gabon, where guerillas known to fly cage pedal to the floor, i don’t know where i’m headed but i know if i’m headed somewhere that ain’t for me, then you can get it minutes from losing focus, sick is from insane tell em i’m coming for it, stomach said the same thing i’m nothing like a loser, knew i was here to win f-ck if they close the door, knock tonight, i’m coming in
[hook] i gotta make it i gotta make it though i gotta make it i gotta make it though
i’m from the bottom but i still try feeling like there ain’t a chance but i still try the streets is all i know but still i got so far to go
[verse 2 - meek mill] i used to play the corner with a 40 on my hip hanging in my ? how i’m gonna get up out this bitch coppers spedning erry minute, i was dirty as a broom i used to take it in the crib and write my raps up in the room trying to chase a dream who thought that i’d be cover of these magazines fresh from a jail cell, greasier than vaseline i went to bet from running around with mack machines busting shots and ducking shots with killers right in back of me i never had a choice, i never really spoke a lot i never had a voice until i started making noise i went from running with my boys to crushing niggas round the world them bitches used to turn me down but now i’m f-cking all them girls, yeah. i’m from a city where these young’uns doomed. i was upset my father died and turned a young’n?. for every killer, that was killed, there go another goon so every track they send my way i’m gonna go summer june
[hook] i gotta make it i gotta make it though i gotta make it i gotta make it though
i’m from the bottom but i still try feeling like there ain’t a chance but i still try the streets is all i know but still i got so far to go
[verse 3 - pusha t] even with the magazine covers and the articles i still got so far to go 9th-degree black belt in the art of blow cook pot and a spoon in my arsenal school of hard knocks, made the honor roll 7 grams to a key, i was on a roll haters couldn’t stand it, i took it for granted misplaced a bag of money and didn’t panic yeah, on my road to the riches baby-blue diamonds and them hot yellow bitches you can’t cancel our christmas italian roadsters, high yellow stitching yeah, what the f-ck is y’all pitching? hall of fame with the o’s cal ripken my hands still in the snow like mittens got my weight belt on: power-lifting push!
[hook] i gotta make it i gotta make it though i gotta make it i gotta make it though
i’m from the bottom but i still try feeling like there ain’t a chance but i still try the streets is all i know but still i got so far to go