Up

Yeah

Run it up for the low

Yuh

Yuh

Go for the gold for sho'
Know these people want you gone for sho'
Run it up, hold your own

Yeah, uh, yeah
(Young Sedo gon' spaz)
Yeah yeah

Go for the gold for sho'
Know these people want you gone for sho'
Run it up hold your own
Don't say you sold your soul
They wanna hold you off
They wanna own you dog
Don't wanna hold you down
They wanna hold you up

Broke boy you know what's up
Hop in the whip like a stolen truck
I do not talk when I'm rollin' up
I just put 'sac in a soda cup

I hit the street with the cobra clutch
Beat up the block with the Golden Gloves
Hit up my jack and you know what's up
Hit up my jack and you know what's up

Big beepin' on the telly
Hit a nigga when you ready
Tryna keep that drip tight
Dripping sauce on my swaghetti
I ain't even gotta cap
That ain't something you can tell me
When I get up in the game, still mix PB wit the Jelly

Get a 223 I think I'm Melly
Get to chopping flesh I'm in the deli
Get to stocking check, I keep em ready
Flip the profit then you cannot shelve me
It's the opposite, You dont impress me
Know you envy
Like the DJ talking to an emcee
Running up the money, I cannot be skinny
Ballin'
dunk on that bitch like I'm penny

All in, I never wanted to flip flop
I'm finna get me a drip drop
Flawless, diamonds they loop like its Tik Tok
Mauling, hitting the block with a big glock

Knowing my role so I'm choosing my lane
Holding my own, you can't do it the same
Going for gold, it ain't easing the pain
If you go for your goals it don't ease it the same

Go for the gold for sho'
Know these people want you gone for sho'
Run it up hold your own
Don't say you sold your soul
They wanna hold you off
They wanna own you dog
Don't wanna hold you down
They wanna hold you up

Broke boy you know what's up
Hop in the whip like a stolen truck
I do not talk when I'm rollin' up
I just put 'sac in a soda cup

I hit the street with the cobra clutch
Beat up the block with the Golden Gloves
Hit up my jack and you know what's up
Hit up my jack and you know what's up

Hit the boi, you know what's up
Posta
I'm post up just cuz I'm supposed to
Hit the stage, a nigga just coasting
They won't boo me cuz it's just
Ocean

I ain't got time for the interviews
You gotta come to me, I use my tennis shoes
Sike I'm just cappin', not brattin', pretending to
I do my math and stack cash like the vending do

I remember being young in that little room
Too many problems, nobody to vent 'em to
Who finna solve 'em nobody attending to
What put me in the mood, I had to get my due

I grabbed the pen and found out what my mental do
I had to spin it around 'fore a nigga blew
What could I get into? Nobody really knew Nobody listened too
Holding my tongue had me feeling invisible

Adolescence had me feeling a way
I was tryna put a mil' in a safe
Now I'm tryna make a healing today
Bet you think that money real but it ain't
Call you broke boy cuz you'd kill for a break
Ready to throw all your feelings away
Know the game before you give 'em a play
Don't let em take all senses away way

Go for the gold for sho'
Know these people want you gone for sho'
Run it up hold your own
Don't say you sold your soul
They wanna hold you off
They wanna own you dog
Don't wanna hold you down
They wanna hold you up

Broke boy you know what's up
Hop in the whip like a stolen truck
I do not talk when I'm rollin' up
I just put 'sac in a soda cup

I hit the street with the cobra clutch
Beat up the block with the Golden Gloves
Hit up my jack and you know what's up
Hit up my jack and you know what's up



Credits
Writer(s): Dominique Harris
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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