(Now its getting deeper.....)

[Hook]
Out here theres another type of purgatory
Catch you burning in the heat, you ain't cut out for Migratory
Gota keep it moving, keep it running that's ain't no fucking worry
I be chasing for the money
And be chasing for the glory


[Verse 1: Quince]
Whoa, better run run Lui better lose that jury
If you get yo name tagged, hands grabbed, backed stabbed, face slapped, thats they way they catch you in the morning
Better pray, for the hope and holy holy
Don’t play with the devil on the journey
He wait, for the weakness in the moment
Don’t break, cause you gota keep it going
I, I speak of my truth
Had to keep it moving like my parents do
If I ever questioned why we running lose
All they ever told me was we on the move
Now I get it, we was enslaved to the jealous
Saying we taking they lettuce, but we ain't even get paid lettuce, nah
And thats unfair, but my daddy never really said he cared
Moma never wept about it or despaired, cause a crying migo neva got nowhere
Never got nowhere, never got nowhere
Never gota give up, theres another day
If you dream, make it happen and you’ll get somewhere
Now we waiting
Living of paying payments
Pennies is what we saving
But dollas is what we craving

Pennies is what we saving (x3)
(Dollas is what we craving) (x3)


[Hook]
Out here theres another type of purgatory
Catch you burning in the heat, you ain't cut out for Migratory
Gota keep it moving, keep it running that's ain't no fucking worry
I be chasing for the money
And be chasing for the glory

[Verse 2: Quince]
Lu, gota get up on this with the shit I spit
Two cents in, got the change, i dropped it
I done worked hard give the chico some profits
Why they basic, baking…
At home, quince getting faces
Pussies on the pavement
Racing for the ratings, till i finally make it
I could be the safest, risk it for the biscuit, bitches
Looking at me like they want the business
But el nino focused on the business
Got the ill flow like sickness
Yet i got the cure coming from my realness
Thats a real spic, with a real tick
I could explode like I'm real quick
I can go-go like a real trip
But I don't really don’t know whats a real hit
So I get back, feel that
Meal packed, gota get to school pass
When I get an A, flash
Otherwise they get sad
Mad, if I skip class
So I never did that
Cause my dad was dripping wet paint
Moma drove round, selling food plates
Out late, while the school would complain
Its okay cause they held us past 8
Damnnnnn, theres no wayyyy
But i grew up on their wayyyys
Papi done made it but waittttt
Junior gota make his own payyyy