Music Video

Kevin Gates - Thought I Heard (Bread Winner's Anthem)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Kevin Gates
Kevin Gates
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kevin Gilyard
Kevin Gilyard
Songwriter
Norman Payne
Norman Payne
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Courtney Horton
Courtney Horton
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Jeff Vaughn
Jeff Vaughn
Assistant Recording Engineer
Christian Garcia
Christian Garcia
Recording Engineer
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Joe Fitz
Joe Fitz
Mixing Engineer
DJ Chose
DJ Chose
Producer

Lyrics

Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they wanna break one Thought I heard somebody say they wanna break one Me and my lil ho, we be out in public Catchin' feelin's, I be fuckin' ho without the rubber Kick a bitch ass, go to jail, beat up a brother Disrespect me, I'ma die, that's just how I'm comin' Shots fired, they just playin', they just might empty Mic check, smash the gas, let the light catch 'em Catch you with your clique and do somethin' bad Talkin' shit that you was talkin' on the 'Gram My momma taught me how to not be loyal to a woman They gon' let your lawyer partner rip when you not lookin' Success is nothin', I'm thuggin', I'm goin' out my mind When shawty brought that pressure you was scared to go outside Talkin' bout me bad to Ciana but it's obvious Cause I'm gettin' cash like Ciana, buyin' property I'm the truth, chosen one, couple niggas said it Why you mad at Kevin Gates? Ain't you gettin' paper Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Got it out the mud and I got it hard All praise be to God, fuck a bodyguard Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Got it out the mud and I got it hard All praise be to God, fuck a bodyguard Show my ass, won't pull up my pants, let me do my dance Show my ass, won't pull up my pants, let me do my dance Show my ass, won't pull up my pants, let me do my dance Show my ass, won't pull up my pants, let me do my dance Lookin' mark at me, that fraud, I'm bout to step on somethin' Got a house full of puppies, better not step on nothin' Where these niggas was when I used to sell rocks? Shoutout everybody in the work and sell block Me and Molly-Ock with the 30 round Glock Breadwinner run party rockin' non-stop Say you sorry, go let God forgive you, I don't hear ya Note to self, them niggas ain't really fuckin' witcha Note to self, them niggas been gettin' comfortable Rap your ass off when you tired, that shit'll humble you I don't get tired, when you tired it come from under you Jump by, jump on songs, do what a grinder do Cocaine in the streets, MC Hammer Bumpin' the Steven Carol with the black bandana Ce-loo nigga, concentration camp anthem Sippin', you get jacked, kidnapped, held up for ransom Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Got it out the mud and I got it hard All praise be to God, fuck a bodyguard Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Got it out the mud and I got it hard All praise be to God, fuck a bodyguard Jay Lewis, do the Jay Lewis, watch that Geaux Yella Margielas, bumpin' gold yellow with a cold stepper Jay Lewis, do the Jay Lewis, watch that Geaux Yella Margielas, bumpin' gold yellow with a cold stepper Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Got it out the mud and I got it hard All praise be to God, fuck a bodyguard Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Thought I heard somebody say they was a bread winner Got it out the mud and I got it hard All praise be to God, fuck a bodyguard
Writer(s): Kevin Gilyard, Norman Payne Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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