Lyrics Chin Up - Waka Flocka Flame, Slim Dunkin

Chin Up

I got friends that need, family to feed
Friends that need, family to feed
(Bricksqaud Monopoly)
The industry grew me up mentally
Physically, financially ya’ll can’t fuck with me
I’m soon to be in the top three put it on the
Beat my G. Partner got two, Brother got two
Momma got five momma got eight.
It ain’t
Bout cake plus a nigga I’m straight.
Eat it out
The pot I don’t need no plate, you can ask
My girl I don’t need no date.
Four singles up
Aye shawty you late.
Sleep when I’m dead meet
Me at my wake.
Ninety-five problems like the
Beast awake (west side).
Everytime they hate
I act alright.
I love every beat southside make
They call me mister eight-oh-eight.
Roll up blunts
I don’t do no shake.
House on the hill I don’t want no lake
Pump yo bricks why u worried bout us.
Monopoly
Boys in the squad I trust plus I got friends in need, family
To feed.
Flag in my pocket as unity.
Not the same person I
Used to be.
I ain’t going nowhere, get used to me Flocka!
Pick yo chin up (Flocka) don’t walk with your head down
Those just words don’t let them knock you down
I got friends that need, family to feed
Friends that need, family to feed
All for one one for all.
One swing we all swing
All these niggas they got my back, a mill ticket that’s chump
Change I got friends that need, family to feed
Friends that need, family to feed
Cause gettin' money don’t make shit (Nope)
Nigga never gave me nothing, had to take shit
Whole hood rep blue like the Patriots (Squad)
Got the Glock like nigga do the matrix (Pow)
Niggas start breaking laws, fuck jail.
Went to court
Judge was like no bail (Shit) I don seen a lot of things on the
Dope scale.
I ain’t trap rob a nigga wholesale.
Fifty deep
Everybody gotta eat (gotta eat) one bed everybody gotta sleep
(Gotta sleep) spend hours in the line just to folks.
Put
Barack in the office, nigga still broke.
Daddy beat momma
Ass, yeah I had it rough.
Fucked a nigga up so I got big enough
Did shit nigga hoping to do, why you want my autograph nigga
I’m broker than u.
Momma cried, two jobs.
two, work
Forgive me my God, I’m fucked up, times hard.
Dirty shoes
Rent due, D Moss we miss you.
Behind the mic, they don’t
Know what Slim D been through… Dunk!
Pick yo chin up (Flocka) don’t walk with your head down
Those just words don’t let them knock you down
I got friends that need, family to feed
Friends that need, family to feed
All for one one for all.
One swing we all swing
All these niggas they got my back, a mill ticket that’s chump
Change I got friends that need, family to feed
Friends that need, family to feed