Through The Storm

Run around with Smith & Wesson, Glocks sing like Coachella

He sayin' he ain't never told, but his dad he a teller

He a rat and he a rat, so they clickin' together

She done says she want my heart, I told that bitch to do better

Bitch, I really want him dead, I pay to put him on stretchers

I done made it through the storm, but I ain't predictin' the weather

All them times when I was broke, I had to cop some Gucci leather and you know I want it all, so I'ma cop the matching sweater

All 2023, Dmb smoke, applyin' pressure

All these people really rats, they goin' fed over some cheddar

And my money stackin' up, it's goin' up just like a ladder

And you say you gettin' rich, but my pockets stay really fatter