Luyện nghe bài hát So Far To Go

So far to go
We gotta on pushing, come on

[Verse 1 - Trae The
I'm on a neverending
Until my tires go
Or everything up and gonna fall off track
Picture me a Kodak
Re-up, nigga, they that
Feeling like I got shit
Work in of a throwback
I'm up in this hallway
out it all day
Trying to get this
And that 8 in all grey
say it's over but you can tell them I'm busy
Professor the books
? with a &a Wesson
Trying to make it to the top, 100,000 miles
Somewhere in Gabon, where guerillas known to fly
Pedal to the floor, I don't know where I'm
But I know if I'm headed somewhere that for me, then you can get it
Minutes from focus, sick is from insane
Tell em I'm coming for it, stomach said the same
I'm nothing like a loser, knew I was to win
F-ck if they the door, knock tonight, I'm coming in

I gotta it
I make it though
I gotta it
I gotta make it

I'm from the but I still try
Feeling like there ain't a but I still try
The is all I know
But I got so far to go

2 - Meek Mill]
I used to play the with a 40 on my hip
Hanging in my ? how I'm gonna get up out bitch
Coppers erry minute, I was dirty as a broom
I used to take it in the crib and write my raps up in the
Trying to chase a
Who thought that I'd be cover of magazines
Fresh a jail cell, greasier than Vaseline
I went to BET from running around with Mack
Busting shots and shots with killers right in back of me
I never had a choice, I never really a lot
I never had a voice until I started noise
I went from running with my boys to crushing niggas round the
Them bitches used to turn me but now
I'm f-cking all them girls, yeah. I'm a city where these
Young'uns doomed. I was upset my father died and a young'n?.
For every killer, was killed, there go another goon
So every track they send my way I'm gonna go summer

I gotta it
I make it though
I make it
I gotta it though

I'm from the bottom but I try
like there ain't a chance but I still try
The is all I know
But I got so far to go

[Verse 3 - T]
Even with the covers and the articles
I got so far to go
9th-degree black in the Art of Blow
Cook pot and a spoon in my
School of Hard Knocks, made the roll
7 grams to a key, I was on a
Haters couldn't stand it, I took it for
Misplaced a bag of money and didn't
Yeah, on my to the riches
Baby-blue diamonds and them hot yellow
You can't our Christmas
Italian roadsters, yellow stitching
Yeah, the f-ck is y'all pitching?
Hall of Fame the O's Cal Ripken
My hands in the snow like mittens
Got my weight belt on:
PUSH!

I gotta it
I make it though
I make it
I gotta it though

I'm from the bottom but I try
Feeling like ain't a chance but I still try
The streets is all I
But I got so far to go