Nowhere to Go

[Verse 1: QuEst] I'm grinding like my life is on the line And all my family, friends and homies count on me to take my shine So I can't fuck with non believers don't even waste my time All my minutes, seconds, hours go to the art that I design So much trouble on my mind, money ain't here, not one dime Cash that cheque, fuck that way, everything gone, fuck I spent Can't remember, can't remember, I swear I can't remember Tell me how can summer August feel like NY in December Prayer's feeling like a fucking mission My homie told me 'you don't ever stop to fucking listen' Maybe cause lately I don't feel like I've been fucking winning Plus you can never understand just how I'm fucking living Nobody sees it, thus they hardly believe it Till it's bottles after bottles and models begging for semen Get it homie, I get it, nothing I wanna deal with I just pick up where I left, like I be back before you feel it, nigga uh [Hook: QuEst] And I'm just riding 'round the city And I'm just riding 'round the city Like there's nowhere to go, to go, to go (And I'm just riding around the city) Like there's nowhere to go, to go, to go (Catch me rolling, me rolling, me rolling) [Verse 2: QuEst] And I got my girl texting, my momma calling Poppa talking, too close to falling Job stalling, not close to falling But I swear that none of this is appalling Bills piling, nigga's smiling all in my face But these snakes invalid, stay silent No wilin', but I'm close to filing my claim to malice Fuck rappers, fuck 'em all, bullshit and those trapper songs Snapbacks and your tight pants and your fake Jordans - who gassed you all And told you to dress like it's '85, and do the same song like 85 Times around like you made of lies, fuck is wrong with you lady-guys No disrespect, that just the way I'm feeling Don't mean I'm dissing Big Sean, I make a decent living Just when you see these imitators get so much attention It kinda makes you feel like real is close to it's extinction Say I'm hating? Who doesn't nowadays? Opinions do not exist like Jews and Jesus holidays Too much shit up on my dome, don't even wanna deal with I just pick up where I left, like I be back before you feel it, nigga [Hook x2] [Verse 3: Logic] Sitting back, and I'm getting it Hand me the mic, and you know I be ripping it Came out the blue, you would think I was cripping it Champagne, we sipping it, living that life Rattpack That's what we on, haters be talking that shit, but we gone Young Sinatra is a don, heading to the top Always keep it real, never flop, no we never stop Never selling out, we in this for the music not the guap But I got that old-school and that mainstream Versatile's my main theme, we re-invent but they same scheme Talking shit on the same team, sold out I never did it That fake shit, I'll never get it, I'm flowing acidic And getting the credit, but you motherfuckers is debit with it Over their head like satellite, so check again cause my data right I remember when I wished I had a mic, but now I record it the second I write I'm in the game and I've been the same, I do it all but y'all ain't a thing 8 years I've felt pain, patiently waiting till y'all knew the name It felt like forever since I was a stain, I once was a boy but I'm finally a mane And the bank account is still only thing that's fucking changed Visionary [Hook x2]