"Glory" lyrics

"Glory"

For fifteen years, finally wins and you toot your horn all the way through town
Why? Glory, that's why, glory
We all know little glories, we're just not good at big glories
Yeah

Way I'm doin' this shit seem effortless
Say I move like I'm workin' with Mexicans (Yeah)
And I look at the dirt, seen a rose grow
Ran it up from the dirt, bought a rose gold (Rose gold)
Wherever I go, yeah, the pole go (For real)
Jump back in the field when the shows slow (Mhm)
The money is flyin', these hoes know
If you don't know now, you'll never know (Yeah)

You state and you federal
You gettin' it in, you goin' legit (You know)
You start to need discipline, you handle your business, you stackin' your chips (For real)
I'm writing my goals down, I'm knockin' 'em all down, I'm scratchin' the list (That's facts)
I'm mad that cappin' exist, 'cause niggas be rappin' 'bout that when they really this
Bro mad I ain't poppin' my shit, but who you know rockin' like this who come from the trenches?
All the free game I'm kickin', I'm quick to go turn up my niggas, they do it for bitches
You never had pressure like this, all the deals they be sendin' is multi-million
I'm glad I was raised by bosses, these niggas lost in the sauce, keep talkin' 'bout killing
All of the killers I know, they don't even talk, shit, I'm sayin' too much right now
"Face, you a rich-ass nigga," but I'll still sleep in the city, you can ask Young Joc
You know it's Chanel for the skully, I rock one like regular business, just ask NaNa (Facts)
My son, he can't even talk, but he hop in the back of the Benz, he wave bye-bye
These niggas be geekin' for nothin'
Last night, I had a dream about money
Woke up out my sleep thinkin' the same thing
Fuck it, I'm spendin' a hundred (Ayy)
Nigga, go put you some cuffs on your main thing
If I'm in your city, she fuckin'
Old-school squad, no buttons
Niggas, they hate me, I love it
My ratchet in public, I'm thuggin'
Still pushin' P's like Gunna (Still pushin')
YSL on like Thug 'nem
Akorn red for my Blood fam
Pick a bag up, put the guns down
Droppin' bags off with my gun on me
Thick-ass bitch, puttin' ones on her
Bitch need to listen, make not a sound

Way I'm doin' this shit seem effortless
Say I move like I'm workin' with Mexicans (Yeah)
And I look at the dirt, seen a rose grow
Ran it up from the dirt, bought a rose gold (Rose gold)
Wherever I go, yeah, the pole go (For real)
Jump back in the field when the shows slow (Mhm)
The money is flyin', these hoes know
If you don't know now, you'll never know


Writer(s): Abdul Malik Olayiwola Thompson, Marcellus Rayvon Register, Gerald Leroy Chauncey Page
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