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Lyrics

What?

We gon' make it, knock on wood
We gon' make it, knock on wood
Used to wish that I could ball, yeah, I used to wish I could
50,000 on my wrist, Red Octobers on my feet
Yeah, I'm only 29, but I still ain't hit my peak

Lyrics continue below...

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'Cause I (what?), uh, I'm out of sight
Quarter million for a '67, yeah, I think I might, uh (what?)
I think I did, goddamn, think I did
Smoke a blunt with my shorty at the crib
Then I dig up in the rib (what?)

We gon' make it, knock on wood
We gon' make it, knock on wood (what?)
Used to wish that I could ball, yeah, I used to wish I could
Now with millions in the bank, my only question is I should (what?)
Scared money don't make none, yeah, I'm good
50 50 on my wrist, Red Octobers on my feet
Yeah, I'm only 29, but I still ain't hit my peak
Put a bullet through your sheet, put your body in the earth
Like a cleat, like a what? (What? What?) Like a cleat

Bobby gon' body the beat, then you know he gon' repeat
'Cause I'm what? Out of sight
'Cause I'm (what?), I'm out of sight
Quarter million for a '67, yeah, I think I might, uh
I think I did, hold up now, I think I did
Smoke a blunt with my shorty at the crib
Then I dig up in the rib
50 million in the bank, hundred million on my mind
If I die tomorrow, at least I done had one hell of a time
Switch the flow up when I rhyme
Switch the flow up when I rhyme

People throwin' shade 'cause I shine
50,000 in the pot, I just threw in twenty blind
Shooting craps in the alley, I bet all the food stamps
Now my house in the valley make me wanna do the dance, like

We gon' make it, knock on wood
We gon' make it, knock on wood
Used to wish that I could ball, yeah, I used to wish I could
50,000 on my wrist, Red Octobers on my feet
Yeah, I'm only 29, but I still ain't hit my peak
'Cause I (what?), uh, I'm out of sight
Quarter million for a '67, yeah, I think I might, uh (what?)
I think I did, God damn, I think I did
Smoke a blunt with my shorty at the crib
Then I dig up in the rib (what?)

We gon' make it, knock on wood
We gon' make it, knock on wood (what?)
People always told me I would never make it out my hood
Yeah, I made it, knock on wood
Now I made it, knock on wood
All the money we makin' keep circulatin' like it should

(What?)
(What?)
(What?)
(What?)
(What?)

Writer(s): Andre S. Brissett, Jason Kevin Pounds, Robert Bryson Hall Ii

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