| Chin up
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| Put your head up
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| Get your chest out
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| Get your bread up
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| Chin up
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| Put your head up
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| Get your chest out
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| Get your bread up (boom, boom)
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| Yo, chin up (boom, boom)
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| Put your head up (boom, boom)
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| Get your chest out (boom, boom)
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| Get your bread up (boom, boom)
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| Yo, chin up (boom, boom)
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| Put your head up (boom, boom)
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| Get your chest out (boom, boom)
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| Get your bread up (boom, boom)
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| Yo, first and foremost we gon' be good my nigga
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| Shit, try and stop me, I wish you would my nigga
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| Shit, S on my chest, I gotta rescue a check
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| Get with this shit or get left, I think you should my nigga (Yeah)
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| I said we’re sitting on a pot of gold, you kinda bold
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| You more like Pippen in a minor role
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| Regardless, keep your chin up and your chest out
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| Take it day by day, get your bread, figure the rest out
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| I remember way back when, when we were hella stressed out
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| Now I’ve got my feet up and my legs are stretched out
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| And we got a pool and a crib that’s hella decked out
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| The game’s getting spoiled, we’re the one’s that you done left out
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| Ever since I was a youngin', I was fitted when I stepped out
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| Toothbrush soaked in water, strawberries looking fresh now
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| Now Groggsy got a daughter, Uncle Nate is feeling blessed now
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| Shout out to this rap shit, got my chin up and my chest out
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| Smoking too much, got my chest looking caved in
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| Looking in the mirror like nobody could save him
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| Started popping off and had nothing to say then
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| If you don’t like it, get the fuck up out my way then
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| You gotta get up, get out or get something, be a brave man
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| Hooping at the park, shit recording in the basement
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| On YouTube watch tutorials, wondering how to make it
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| Shit we all dreamers, my nigga you gotta chase it
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| The game was looking ugly, we just gave it a facelift
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| Success right in front of my face and I could taste it
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| Posted in the dungeon fam, voice worth a hundred grand
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| Still just a simple man, chilling in some dirty Vans
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| I been had these when I first had recorded at my friend’s crib
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| Mason passed a .44, man you on some lame shit
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| That’s just how we thought back then, now we on some fame shit
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| And they think they know me cause they knowing my last name shit
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| We came a long ass way from the Dentist’s Office
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| Started getting love and labels making us offers
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| Got the city mad, they don’t wanna see us prosper
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| The three of us are better than, their entire roster
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| You gotta, take that shit, you can’t just trust a process
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| Ain’t no taking handouts, ain’t no fucking promises
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| Ain’t no wrong way about it when it comes to making profit
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| You gotta do you bruh, ain’t nothing gon' stop shit
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| It’s like a celebration everytime that we drop shit
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| After Floss they were like, «How they gonna top it?»
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| Leave em wanting more, they eat it up when we drop it
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| You ain’t gotta like us but the hustle, you can’t knock it
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| You ain’t gotta, ask around to know that we been popping
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| You can hear the influence, you know that they jocking
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| Nobody can take away the hours that we clocked in
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| My niggas we made it, thank you all for copping |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Chin up (Outro) , by - Injury Reserve. Song from the album Drive It Like It's Stolen, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп