Lyrics Gotta Make It - Taelor Gray

Yeah, I don′t want a faith that tries to canonize Calvin
And I don't want no friends around that sanitize Malcolm
And I don′t want you ever think I'm safe when you talk to me
Imma be ok, just need some space and some coffee beans
Get up out my own head and process all this trauma
Tell Liz that I'll be home early, just need to see my daughter
Just need to see my son smile, it′s cold in all these people faces
Hard to feel at home as a shepherd how the sheep can hate you
And now we see Nigerians, they change the world of fashion
The streets make these decisions, European is the past tense
Still it′s all relative, I'm fighting for my relatives
Across the color spectrum, it′s the Cross that really kept us
I still believe in dreams, 'cause these DJs keep on sleeping
My songs don′t make the mixes, but I mix it up with teachers
Exegesis if you pay attention, the commentary's English
I read all these interpretations until I′m left with Jesus
Gotta make it

Gotta make it, gotta make it, look, I ain't here play with you
I put this on my winnings, taking bets I ain't the same as you
′Cause Taelor knows his Tailor, there could never be a replica
Look, I assemble real ones, better hope you with the rest of us
We made it
Never faded
All these faces painted
All that hate can stay there
That′s just how I take it, we only friends on the Gram
Like it's realer than it is I won′t ever understand
No more questions, no more questions
Let's be honest this ain′t for you
No more extras, no more lectures
I can't promise this is normal
I been all up in the desert with a treasure full of riches
You just, you just shrug your shoulders
See some breadsticks and some fishes
I seen miracles, they miracles—I shouldn′t be alive
Yeah, peace up to the sparrow, take the narrow way to die
No more questions, cut the interview, 'cause I been acting immature
And that's an Aha moment, I been fighting being cynical
And this might be the last one
That might be my caption
Trying to close this chapter
Bet I own my masters
Panther on my jacket and T′Challa in my accent

Momma singing in the choir that was my Mahalia Jackson

Gotta make it, yeah, love keep on lifting me
Make it, Imma run till it finish me
Make it, yeah, not much time left for me
Imma give this life up to God then I let it be
Make it, love keep on lifting me
Make it, Imma run till it finish me
Make it, not much time left for me
Imma give this life up to God then I let it be