Made Alot

[Hook:] x2 Made a lot of cheese, people say I changed Made a lot of cheese, people say I changed Made a lot of cheese, people say I changed But if you thinking that you never knew me from the gate man [Verse 1: Big KRIT] Ay but fuck it then Cause I rather ride Bubble Benz and push a bucket break, scrubbing paint Bubbling up again, on my hood Gotta get it while the gettin good A chemist with the pimpin mix the leather with the cherry wood If you could you should Slam doors on hoes I 5th wheel my trunk while white-wallin my vogues I tight walk on these foes just to flex Ain't no sense in stepping out if I can't never look my best Damn, don’t stress my bankroll Just know I keep my bank swoll Ain’t no place I can’t go, never trick on no stank ho It was like that back when I was in my mama’s stomach A player slid up out the womb and hit the ground running Never stumbling always gunning like a popped Glock Keep a hater boxed out So I could rebound and ball for the top spot All the same I’m a staple in the game Ain't never been no lame That’s why I find it strange when I [Hook:] [Verse 2: Big Sant] Who the fuck are you Texting me at 1:46 in the evening Meant the morning, after midnight While I’m yawning, you were sleeping 4 door Chevy roll I’m out'chea creeping Slamming doors in Heavy things but I want some more With playa pose, Roll up on hoes That say they knew me from high-school Maybe community college, claim they wanna do some thangs But I can do without it My mama name "Such and such" and we go back like baby powder Baby I doubt it, it’s hard to swallow You wanna lay up, I want a dollar For the machine, I’m kinda thirsty A little parched, she wanna ride, no you cannot She say I’m mean I say just the hoes And dumb niggas, kinda like you Them B's and doe's Reject request on Facebook Daily duckin lames All you know is my patna; 'em then my name Plus you heard that I [Hook:] [Verse 3: Big Sant] You probably see me in the street but nigga you dont know me Big Sant bitch, motherfucking OG From the Sip get a grip, wanna visit take a trip Ain’t a nigga dead or alive that can say that I done flipped Im from the land of the cheese, home of the slave Don’t confuse me with no lame Cause that’s what just I ain’t Alumni forever put that on the nigga next to me Started out writing rhymes ended up writing a legacy [Verse 4: Big KRIT] They hollerin there he go again What's his name, where his folk? Call him Kurt, call him KRIT? Fuck that nigga I ain’t sure He got beats, heard him flow Like a couple years ago He alright, kinda tight Shawty like him on the low There he go, too much soul I wouldn’t buy it out the store Plus I saw him in the club One who hollered at my ho Just because he got some dough From a deal he think he ill I bet thats how that motherfucka feel And on the real I think he changed