Young Scooter - Made It Through The Struggle lyrics

rate me

My life been crazy,

you street nigga, you know how I feel

Hook:

I made it through the struggle-struggle, struggle-struggle

I grind it out that gutter, gutter, gutter,

this a letter to my mama, to my mama

I never had a f*ckin father, no.

ain't no more going broke, ain't no more going broke

ain't no more going broke, ain't no more going broke

I made it through the struggle-struggle, struggle-struggle

I grind it out that gutter, gutter, gutter, yeah yeah.

Woke up broke, a thousand times

no days I'll stay on the grind

you can feel it over fellin you can press with wine

had a thing like fifty sinking rich a die trying

for this black miggle, shit my life is on the line

we made it out the struggle through them hard times

sugar in that gutter gutter on the power line,

I do this shit for my little brothers like this kids mine,

got me stressed out 'cause he f*ck the face and all that time,

isn't this crazy 'cause this day I'm in.. to try,

and I got to myself, and I take car my niggas,

I take care my family, know the world understand

[Hook:]

I'm Thinking white hoodie, white shades, white jay's on white snow

white Bugatti in a white Ferrari, with white diamonds on white gold,

white grill, white Benz, roll around with my white friends,

white fur in a right rims, you say my name and you right in

I'm no fan of him, I got the ammo in,

you wanna handle him and who stand with him,

I got the lambo in I'm in the manderin,

I got them mask on, Im rip Hamilton

shawty acting like a man again

I told the quit with the shenanigans

she says she gonna be my car, I'm still never gonna be a man again

she a murder in the trap is a bubbie,

Young Scooter ain't Gucci, so many Maybach out front,

niggas think I roll em with pucci,

I ain't taking no jewelry off you, gonna cock a nigga come shoot me,

I ain't ready for the old murderer, then what you're gonna do with the new me.

[Hook:]

My daddy got a..instant want me shit to me,

six years old I ain't have shit to eat,

my stomach empty balled up I can't get no sleep,

can't wait to go to school, as my meal all weak

used to watch from the old lean, I got flow seats

I used to catch rise, now as far for six

I'm free as fifty bands dancing for four week,

my mama called my phone talk to my daddy last week,

he heard I got a song on the street called Colombia,

my daddy smoke Colombia, so daddy I don't fuck with you

my mama raised a hustler, my mama was a hustler,

gotta think my mama had to move out the gutter.

[Hook:]

Thanks to djblenrite@gmail.com for correcting these lyrics