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Correct Made It Home Lyrics
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Artists: S
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Sauce Walka
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Correct Made It Home
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Lyrics:
[Verse] Starin' at my past through the window pane Shackled to the bus seat of the Blue Bird after catching chain Pull up to the unit, break of dawn, morning, wind or rain Cuffs freezing my wrists, I'm locked in shame over the set I bang Hit the bowl and nail it, five offenders already know my name Ain't even classified yet, my name louder than five jets 'Cause I was in my city leavin' blood on niggas' pyrex Pistol whippin' niggas' big homies, startin' up dry plex Five months into my sentence I had a cellphone, sendin' dry texts And two female guards on my dick bringin' the drop, next Dropped a couple niggas and I ran the cellblock, next I had to learn some skills, Muslims showed me how to block, next Now I'm transportin' contraband all in my sock, next How easy we touch free world drugs, I thought rock's next I never cared for football games, dominos, hot chess 'Cause they'll be the reason one of these bitch niggas get dropped next Stabbed up or popped next Poker in my long-john sweats just in case a riot pop off at rec I'ma split a nigga neck for my respect, that's a Nike check I gotta go home after this, Jordan in Charlotte My family in the freeway know me, who gon' pay the rent? My daddy livin' check to check and child support take half of that Backpay, and I been livin' with him since the fourth grade The government ain't shit They charge the father just 'cause the mama say But they don't even take the time out to find where the mama stay 'Cause Mama ain't raise me a half a day past age seven man But still I'm Mayweather, man In them streets, I had my racks up For 3 years in the pen, that shit run dry when shit get backed up When them hoes don't send no money, block they calls, and start to act up When your niggas can't send you money 'cause they strugglin', and that's jacked up That's what they need you back for Whole time this the same reason you in here shacked up This whole cycle is smacked up And it's time for rack up, I'm sleepin' in the hellhole I ain't got a letter in four months so I gotta shell soul I should've been a lawyer or doctor or a nigga that sell gold But instead my dumb ass was in the streets lettin' them shells blow Now I'm wearin' field yard boots, no Guccis and shelltoes Tryna get a sick pass, we out here workin' with scarecrows I always knew that I would touch down and go hit Melrose But I never knew that I would touch down and start to sell hoes Drop a couple quick rap songs, now I can sell clothes I told my PO I'ma make it, but she ain't think so Sneakin' codeine in my system, that's why I blink slow Almost piss dirty, I'm thankful the Lord spared me I used to pray a lot but I swear that he never heard me 'Cause every time I jumped in the whip, the law swerved me But every time I went on that trip, I dodged jerseys The penal system made me a legend like James Worthy I came back with too much game and too sturdy Now I'm buyin' the same cars as the plugs, with no birdies I tried to put my whole clique on and they all burnt me But I let that shit roll off my shoulders because it learnt me I found my lane and stayed on the bitch because she turned me I made my first hundreds of thousands and got a surgery [Outro] I made it home Haha, ooh-wee, yeah
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