We Made It Out The Bottom (feat. Eightball & Killa Kyleon) - Lil Keke

We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top

We rise and fall, but the game don’t stop

We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top

Real estate cars, and them big shiny rocks

We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top

Family first, fuck with that and get popped

We made it out the bottom, we reaching for the top

We live and die, but the game don’t stop

Fat boy killer man, cut like a guillotine

Off with a nigga head, my style ain’t free

Bloody body parts, pop hearts and stop breathing

Nutty niggas only need a reason, reach under the seat and

Grab the heat, and make that fire jump up out my window

I bet them bitches, won’t be coming round here talking no mo'

Ay yo, dirty lyrics bring out evil spirits

I must be evil, wouldn’t talk it if I didn’t live it

Wouldn’t live it if I couldn’t take it, please believe it

Please believe, that if a nigga disrespect he bleeding

I put that on them little niggas, at the crib I’m feeding

Do whatever, trying to get the shit that they be needing

Touch the streets, and get my feet muddy

For them dead presidents, pimp a hoe like Cuddy

Like Bubba Sparxxx we get ugly, remember that

For that bread niggas willing to go, to hell and back

If your cash is mean, let me hear you scream and rush it

Hood rich fake ass niggas, y’all gotta love it

Get mine, battle the streets and keep it locked

Loading and cocking Glocks, jamming slowed down Pac

Twist it and make it pop, close it and open shop

Bottom straight to the top, smoking on that Cali crop

City that’s do or die, kill you behind a lie

Open the pigeon coop, and let the street birds fly

Murder and racketeer, FED’s won’t disappear

Push it and hit the gear, pray for another year

Lifetime, and the click be rumbling

Raised in the hood mayn, where the heads be tumbling

Boys be stumbling, living in sadness

Broke as fuck, they can’t shake the madness

A savage, plus I don’t give a damn

Get rich and live it up, with the rest of the fam

Gotta rise to the top, cause the bottom too crowded

It’s like crabs in a bucket, and they holding me down

That’s why I’m on the block with the rocket, I’m holding a pound

Inside the booth spitting, he’s controlling the sound

And we controlling the town, got the keys to the city

Rains trains or airplanes, I got the keys to the city

It’s Killa, Ball and Ke we CMG

Custom Made Gangstaz, we CMG’s

It don’t take a set of binoculars, to see we G’s

Got a eye for this do' nigga, so we see them G’s

And I done finally made it, cause I’m sick with the rap

Spit lyrics like cold bro, I’m sick with the rap

When the Glock start coughing, I’m sick with the strap

Behind money, I’d make your face stick to your lap

Gotta make it to the top bro, you can’t deny my mail

Cause I rap so well, they had to put my teeth in jail it’s Killa