Into the Sky - Rittz

It’s been

Five years in a row, I still won’t quit

Fuck the recognition people still don’t give

And the retro 8's with the strap unfastened

And my shoestrings tucked to the Velcro strip

I don’t battle rap and I ain’t on the shell toe tip

Looking like I’m moving dope, but I don’t sell no bricks

Up inside the Regal, you can run and play The Seagulls

See me leaning out the window with the elbow bent

Try to bring a German Shepherd, they don’t smell no scent

Won’t see no seeds, don’t spill no stems

Got a L-O-N-G beast in the streets

CNT is a team it’s a fellowship

I ain’t ever been to jail, I don’t tell no fibs

Any time they ever try me is a failed attempt

I don’t ever wanna catch a L, I win

Bitches tryna find out what hotel I’m in

I’ll be better when, I’m finally off the road

Any baggage, I’ma leave it with the bellhop

Shell-shocked when I came home 'til I see a big check

When I’m peeking in the mailbox

80 bags of the stash that I had

As I brag to my homie in the jailhouse

I can help now, when you get out I’ll be well off

Haters say hell nah

Bitch don’t even try-y-y-y-y

'Cause that ain’t gonna fly-y-y-y-y

They say that I’m on fi-i-i-i-ire

And I don’t even li-i-i-i-ie

I’ma look 'em in the eye, put a middle finger up

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up

Into the sky-y-y-y-y

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up

Into the sky-y-y-y-y

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up

Into the sky-y-y-y-y

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up into the sky

Some of y’all might hate this cadence

Mad 'cause obtained the taste sensation

Starving like all I ever ate was Ramen

Your favorite entertainer okay with stagin'

Ballin' when they having trouble making payments

Thought that they could draw, but they were tracing faces

People that you place your faith in are faking

Like alien invasions, lasers, ray guns

Brag about your money and your company

If someone doesn’t want it, they be jumping like a bullfrog

Now you gotta prove all the shit that you was talking

You a poodle in a saloon full of bulldogs

Got a dot on your head from the blue chalk

On the cue ball, in the pool hall

No reality show when you leave Fulton County

You ain’t calling no shots like Too Tall

Hit you when they pull off

Now the family gotta tell 'em too-da-loo

All that I can say is c’est la vie

True, I got a little loot

I try not to rub it in they face when I make my cheese

A few times I done seen a few guys showing they cahoonas

Thinking they was paid like me

Pull up in a new car, you ain’t got no money in the bank like me

So —

Bitch don’t even try-y-y-y-y

'Cause that ain’t gonna fly-y-y-y-y

They say that I’m on fi-i-i-i-ire

And I don’t even li-i-i-i-ie

I’ma look 'em in the eye, put a middle finger up

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up

Into the sky-y-y-y-y

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up

Into the sky-y-y-y-y

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up

Into the sky-y-y-y-y

Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up into the sky