Lyrics Made It Worse - Dave East, DJ Holiday

Made It Worse

I don’t complain, I make it work
I know about pain, I make it work
I don’t complain, I make it work
I know about pain, I’m from the dirt
I was stuck on the block, I woke up off a perc
Sick of duckin' the cops
The money only made it worse
Money only made it worse
I just bought my bitch a purse
Niggas gotta trap all year just to pay me for a verse
I know how to make it work
They put my cousin on a shirt
I just wanna see all my niggas touch a million before I leave this earth
Now they asking me my worth, them niggas grass, I’m turf
Foreign drop on Crenshaw and the tops off like a shirt
I done played the backseat, only one thought, niggas gettin murked
I wake up and go to work, put my closest homie in a hearse
Taking pictures with my thumbs up, my baby momma hate my lifestyle
My lawyer told me put the guns up but he don’t understand my life wild
Blowin' racks up in Niketown, pray the plug bring the price down
I was on the phone with Neff, told him I’m in North, met him up in Nice Town
Blue faces, need 'em right now, Fear of God and Amiri mix
On point, like a pyramid, might catch a body while you hearing this
Look in my eyes and I’m serious, you Niggas is trash, period
Gettin' head in a Benz while I’m steering it, just make sure you don’t leave no
witnesses
Period
I don’t complain, I make it work
I know about pain, i’m from the dirt
I was stuck on the block, I woke up off a perc
Sick of duckin' the cops
The Money only made it worse
Money only made it worse
I just bought my bitch a purse
Niggas gotta trap all year just to pay me for a verse
I know how to make it work
They put my cousin on a shirt
I just wanna see all my Niggas touch a million before I leave this earth
Before I even leave the city, I got niggas telling me that I’m a legend
Before I went and got a car, before I got a crib, went and got a weapon
Free my Niggas in the state yard, when I talk I know that they get the messege
Treat the block like it’s Tetris, all this guap got her naked
Alotta niggas talking Drug Rap, honestly I never jack that
Couldn’t ask em where a pack at, Lord knows what’s in my backpack
I was in the projects, all the scammers, all the felons and the rats at
I don’t even get a cat nap, nightmares, me eating Jack Mack
Long nights in a cell, talk Dre-mac, 'til my nigga get back
Rafaello got my wrist wrapped, in a kitchen watching Pooch whip that
Buncha baggies in a zip-lock, only one thought, gotta get back
Baby brother got a good shot, price on ya head he gon' hit that, homie sit back
I don’t complain, I make it work
I know about pain, i’m from the dirt
I was stuck on the block, I woke up off a perc
Sick of duckin' the cops
The Money only made it worse
I just bought my bitch a purse
Niggas gotta trap all year just to pay me for a verse
I know how to make it work
They put my cousin on a shirt
I just wanna see all my Niggas touch a million before I leave this earth