Artist: Rittz
Album:  Last Call
Song:   Into the Sky
Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com 

[Rittz]
It's, been, five years in a row I still won't quit
Fuck the recognition people still don't give
And the retro H with the strap on fast
and my shoestrings tucked to the Velcro strip
I don't battle rap and I ain't on the shell-toe tip
Lookin like I'm movin dope but I don't sell no risk
Up inside the Regal, you can run and play the Seagulls
See me leanin out the window with the elbow bent
Try to bring a German Shepherd, they don't smell no scent
Won't see no seeds, don't spill no stems
Got a L-O-N-G beast in the streets
On your T cause our team is the fellowship
I ain't never been to jail, I don't tell no fibs
Any time they ever try me is a failed attempt
I don't ever wanna catch a L, I win
Bet you're tryna find out what hotel I'm in
I be bellowin, I'm finally off the road
Any baggage I'ma leave it with the bellhop
Shell-shocked when I came home
'til I see a big check when I'm peekin in the mailbox
80 bags of {?} of the stash that I had
is a brag to my homie in the jailhouse
I can't help now when you get out
I be well off, haters say hell nah

[Chorus: Rittz]
Bitch don't even try-y-y-y-y (yeah)
Cause that ain't gonna fly-y-y-y-y (yeah)
They say that I'm on fi-i-i-i-ire (yeah)
And I don't even li-i-i-i-ie
I'ma look 'em in the eye, put a middle finger up
Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up (into the sky-y-y-y-y)
Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up (into the sky-y-y-y-y)
Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up (into the sky-y-y-y-y)
Put a middle finger up, put a middle finger up into the sky

[Rittz]
Some of y'all might hate this cadence
Mad cause obtained the taste sensation
Starvin like when all I ever ate was Ramen
Your favorite entertainer okay with stagin
Bawlin when they havin trouble makin payments
Thought that they could draw but they were tracin faces
People that you place your faith in are vacant
Like alien invasions, lasers, ray guns
Brag about your money and your company
If someone doesn't want it they be jumpin like a bullfrog
Now you gotta prove all the shit that you was talkin
You a poodle in a saloon full of bulldogs
Got a dot on your head from the blue, chalk
on the cue, ball in the pool, hall
No reality show when you leave Fulton County
You ain't callin no shots like Too Tall, hit you when they pull off
Now the family gotta tell 'em too-da-loo
while all that I can say is c'est la vie
True, I got a little loot
I try not to rub it in they face when I make my cheese
A few times I done seen a few guys showin they cahoonas
thinkin they was paid like me
Pull up in a new car
You ain't got no money in the bank like me
So

[Chorus]

[Outro]
Ya-uh-yeah!
It's Rittz, bitch!