Music Video

Kodak Black - Conscience (feat. Future) [Official Audio]
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Kodak Black
Kodak Black
Vocals
Cicero
Cicero
Programming
Dy Krazy
Dy Krazy
Programming
Future
Future
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bill Kahan Kapri
Bill Kahan Kapri
Songwriter
Dwan Avery
Dwan Avery
Songwriter
Nayvadius Wilburn
Nayvadius Wilburn
Songwriter
Shawn Kyles
Shawn Kyles
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Cicero
Cicero
Producer
Dy Krazy
Dy Krazy
Producer
Lu Diaz
Lu Diaz
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Yeah, Project Baby These streets took my conscience Blee Sniper Gang These streets took my conscience Yeah, everybody with me on that same thang I don't gang-bang but I bang-bang I pull up to the club, I got on eight chains Took that bitch to Wings-N-Things, she wanna be my main Brown liquor made my dawg insane Booted up a geek, it's the same thang Fish scale or molly, it's the same name Murder by the stains, which gang you claim? The big Patek face cost ten chains Took your bitch out to eat on a private plane Real talk, 150 when it's plain Jane For the junk behind the dumpster for some cocaine Ayy, free my nigga coo, he in the chain gang Chris Johnson, I swear for God I drop the twenty-eight I told my nigga be fool, he put a potato on a barrel I kick lil' dumbass out my crib, say she want Chanel I bought that bitch a wig 'cause she ain't got no hair I sent that poor ass hoe a Uber 'cause she ain't got no whip Thirty golds in my mouth like I'm Stephen Curry Thirty clip in my Glock 'cause I'm a damn warrior Streets left me scarred, ain't no worries Run my money up in a hurry Thirteen strippers, James Harden Money make you greedy when you starving Monisha, Tamica, they vouching Before I had anything, I was saucing 'Fore I had that Bentley truck, I was saucing All these hitters, yeah, I pray you never cross them She say she brand new, I swear I want the old her Eighteen hunded, I got more stories than a author I'm credit card swipin' at the Chase Bank (ey) Me and Future gang gang, same thang I check your temperature, nigga, is you hot or cold? Like a state trooper, I make my money on the road I remember hittin' houses, nigga, cash 4 gold These streets made me lose my conscience, took a nigga soul These streets took all my soul from me Tried to leave me in the cold These streets took my conscience from me Now tough love is all I show I know my niggas got love for me And they filling up they nose I know my Levi got love for me She just want everybody to know I know my niggas, they be missin' me So I be posted on the straw I don't even care about how much cash I see I'm always gon' be in the 'No I ran out of money, then they switch lanes I ran it back up, then I switch lanes In a brand new Range, diamond colored candy cane I brought a brand new K, I can't wait to let it spray I'm sorry mom, ain't mean to bring you through so much pain I said I'm sorry mom, I ain't mean for it to be this way Ayy but fuck it, bitch, I'm here, I got diamond rings All the finer things, designer jeans, I'm gettin' paid These streets took my conscience All the finer things, designer jeans, I'm getting paid These streets took my conscience All the finer things, designer jeans, I'm getting paid All the finer things, designer jeans, I'm getting paid All the finer things, designer jeans, I'm getting paid
Writer(s): Nayvadius Wilburn, Dwan Avery, Shawn Kyles, Dieuson Octave Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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