Ay, winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
You from the trenches, you living, you winning (you winning)
You wake up and go and get it, you winning (you winning)
You tryna double your digits, you winning (you winning)
You put hot sauce on your chicken, you winning (you winning)
Ay, winning
Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
I'm from the trenches, I'm living, I'm winning (I'm winning)
I wake up and go and get it, I'm winning (I'm winning)
I'm tryna double my digits, I'm winning (I'm winning)
I put hot sauce on my chicken, I'm winning (I'm winning)

I'm from the trenches, I made it (made it)
That's crazy, it was so dangerous
But I wasn't scared and I wasn't hating
I was just dreaming, Glock with the laser
Tax on the bag, you know we gon' take it
Then link with the bros in grandmama's basement
See what we made
He play with us, next time you see him gon' be at his grave (bah)
Dog food, Fentanyl
First nigga in the city with a Benz truck, big dawg (skrrt-skrrt)
They don't like me on the other side
But I'm still getting money over there, I know they pissed off
I'm so surprised that I'm still alive
I gotta thank God 'cause I was outside and bullets was flyin'
And I ain't get hit (nah)
That's how I know that I'm winning

Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
You from the trenches, you living, you winning (you winning)
You wake up and go and get it, you winning (you winning)
You tryna double your digits, you winning (you winning)
You put hot sauce on your chicken, you winning (you winning)
Ay, winning
Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning)
I'm from the trenches, I'm living, I'm winning (I'm winning)
I wake up and go and get it, I'm winning (I'm winning)
I'm tryna double my digits, I'm winning (I'm winning)
I put hot sauce on my chicken, I'm winning (I'm winning)

You need some tree, let me tell, blunt (yeah)
He send that shit to your mailbox
I'm eating chicken, don't fuck with Tabasco
You know that I only eat Red Hot (Frank's)
Free all my bros out them cell blocks (free 'em)
They coming home, causing hell, God
Get my boy right for a band, thought (yeah)
Run up on me, you's a dead guy

Bro called, said he need an M
I'm like, "Bro, you ain't never had a ten" (damn)
But you my brother, I got you (I got you)
We way beyond locked in (locked in)
Niggas saying free my lil' nigga (what?)
Them boys ain't never tap in (not once)
Right now, I ain't buying no jewelry
Corona made me miss too many backends (damn)
But when this shit open back up (open back up)
I'm going straight on my run (I'm going straight on my run)
Hit the ground, running it up (running it up)
Doing nothing but focusing up on

Winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (winning), winning (what else?)
Winning (what else?), Winning (what else?), Winning (what else?)
Winning, winning, winning, winning
Winning, winning, winning, winning
Winning, winning, winning, winning

Copyright: CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Exploration Group LLC, Peermusic Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Terry Sanchez Wallace