Meek Mill, Trae Tha Truth, Pusha T - So Far To Go lyrics

[Meek Mill, Trae Tha Truth, Pusha T - So Far To Go lyrics]

So far to go
We gotta keep on pushing, come on

I'm on a neverending vacation
Until my tires go flat
Or everything fucked up and gonna fall
Off track picture me like a Kodak
Re-up, nigga, they know that
Dealing 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 with a Smith & 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
Business from losing folk
Sick is from insane
Tell em I'm coming for it
Stomach's the same thing
Nothing like a lose, I knew I was here to win
Fuck em if they close the door, knock light
I'm coming in

So far to go 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

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 trippin
I admit it 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 though 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 fucking all them girls
Yeah i'm from a city where these
Young'uns doomed i was upset my father died
I turned forever killed it, I was
So I retract

So far to go 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

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 fuck 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

So far to go 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

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