QuinceLu - Glory lyrics

(Now its getting deeper.....) [Hook] Out here theres another type of purgatory Catch you burning in the heat, you ain't cut out for Migratory Gota keep it moving, keep it running that's ain't no f**ing worry I be chasing for the money And be chasing for the glory [Verse 1: Quince] Whoa, better run run Lui better lose that jury If you get yo name tagged, hands grabbed, backed stabbed, face slapped, thats they way they catch you in the morning Better pray, for the hope and holy holy Don't play with the devil on the journey He wait, for the weakness in the moment Don't break, cause you gota keep it going I, I speak of my truth Had to keep it moving like my parents do If I ever questioned why we running lose All they ever told me was we on the move Now I get it, we was enslaved to the jealous Saying we taking they lettuce, but we ain't even get paid lettuce, nah And thats unfair, but my daddy never really said he cared Moma never wept about it or despaired, cause a crying migo neva got nowhere Never got nowhere, never got nowhere Never gota give up, theres another day If you dream, make it happen and you'll get somewhere Now we waiting Living of paying payments Pennies is what we saving But dollas is what we craving Pennies is what we saving (x3) (Dollas is what we craving) (x3) [Hook] Out here theres another type of purgatory Catch you burning in the heat, you ain't cut out for Migratory Gota keep it moving, keep it running that's ain't no f**ing worry I be chasing for the money And be chasing for the glory [Verse 2: Quince] Lu, gota get up on this with the sh** I spit Two cents in, got the change, i dropped it I done worked hard give the chico some profits Why they basic, baking… At home, quince getting faces Pussies on the pavement Racing for the ratings, till i finally make it I could be the safest, risk it for the biscuit, b**hes Looking at me like they want the business But el nino focused on the business Got the ill flow like sickness Yet i got the cure coming from my realness Thats a real spic, with a real tick I could explode like I'm real quick I can go-go like a real trip But I don't really don't know whats a real hit So I get back, feel that Meal packed, gota get to school pa** When I get an A, flash Otherwise they get sad Mad, if I skip cla** So I never did that Cause my dad was dripping wet paint Moma drove round, selling food plates Out late, while the school would complain Its okay cause they held us past 8 Damnnnnn, theres no wayyyy But i grew up on their wayyyys Papi done made it but waittttt Junior gota make his own payyyy