Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs
Vocals
Madlib
Madlib
Programming
Wee
Wee
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Otis Jackson
Otis Jackson
Songwriter
Fredrick Tipton
Fredrick Tipton
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs
Producer
Madlib
Madlib
Producer
Ben "Lambo" Lambert
Ben "Lambo" Lambert
Producer
Eothen Alapatt
Eothen Alapatt
Producer
Sidney "Speakerbomb" Miller
Sidney "Speakerbomb" Miller
Recording Engineer
Rich Gains
Rich Gains
Recording Engineer
Fabian Hummel
Fabian Hummel
Recording Engineer
Mario Caldato Jr
Mario Caldato Jr
Mixing Engineer
Dave Cooley
Dave Cooley
Mastering Engineer
Eric Anthony Sandoval
Eric Anthony Sandoval
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Yeah, check, check, yeah, uh Chillin' in my, uh, uh Chillin' in my, chillin' in my, uh Chillin' in my, chillin' in my, uh Chillin' in my, chillin' in my, uh Old school Chevy thang, Cadillac Smokin' on that good, good Good for my cataracts Fuckin' up this bad food Fast food, gettin' fat Nine, extended clip attached Swingin' it like a battle axe Livin' la vida broke-a Fuckin' these smokers up and baggin' crack Antonio Montana dream Mama wasn't havin' that Niggas ain't know no better We fuck 'em and pass 'em We was passin' rats Bitch, you wet my 'Wood up Dry my shit off 'fore you pass it back Bitch, pass it back, pass the Act' Codeine got me passin' out Crown mix it with cranberry Tryna see what that about 'Member we hit that lick and tied up them Crips in that Atlanta house Had to smoke that nigga that came along with us 'cause he was gon' rat us out Seem like my actions was devil sin, I can't sympathize Fuck generation next, this generation genocide Your social stat make you fantasize about a homicide To me, the guy that lie is the black man personified Anticipatin' and killin' my own in search of wealth Should he come knockin' at the door of your home, you know, for death Knew the Lord was in the room when my daughter took her first breath Cold turkey on the dope, had to gain the knowledge of self In my old school Chevy thang Cadillac Good, good Good for my cataracts Bad food Fast food, gettin' fat Nine, extended clip attached Swingin' it like a battle axe I'm chillin' in my old school Chevy thang, Cadillac Smokin' on that good, good Good for my cataracts Fuckin' up this bad food Fast food, gettin' fat Nine, extended clip attached Swingin' it like a battle axe Livin' la vida broke-a Fuckin' these smokers up and baggin' crack Antonio Montana dream Mama wasn't havin' that Niggas ain't know no better We fuck 'em and pass 'em We was passin' rats Bitch, you wet my 'Wood up Dry my shit off 'fore you pass it back Wish I could put that pussy off in my pockets, I would leave with that Hit my after your cycle, I need that pussy with no string attached Fiendin' to get it, won't hit it, against my religion, a nigga won't bleed for that You lucky enough to get you a nigga with morals, you needed to heed to that Turkey bacon, bitch, like my toast buttered on both sides Chevy dipped in liquid cocaine, my Casper the Ghost ride I let some people go from my company and they sold out I know that they jumpin' straight into Hell, I pray that they nosedive Mama said don't leave out the house if you ain't got Jesus with you Last Supper, you might get fucked by niggas that's eatin' with you Side bitch was trippin', I fucked but won't spend the evening with her My baby mama switched up her diet, I'ma go vegan with her Father, please deliver us niggas, carnivorous niggas I walk amongst the dumb, deaf, and blind, and them frivolous niggas And dope, rap, and basketball punchin' a ticket for niggas You put it in the book then I guess you done hid it from niggas I'm chillin' in my old school Chevy thang, Cadillac Smokin' on that good, good Good for my cataracts Fuckin' up this bad food Fast food, gettin' fat (New shit) Mashallah, rest in peace to Tha Jacka Paradise, the next life, I'll see you in the hereafter I'm in that ebony Instagram, my nigga was mad I ain't smashin' Nigga, I don't need you for the feature, really don't fuck with no rapper I don't got no problem with these niggas wearin' they dresses and skirts When you pop up with an opinion and drag your name through the dirt On the Day of Judgement, niggas gon' pay for they dirt Including me Couldn't push my boat through the lake of fire 'cause my paddles was burnt Uncle was smokin' that work Can't come in the crib, I serve you through the gate Smell the dope off in the air Jimmy Duggan, shake and bake Used to walk a dog with H In and out, Empire State '68 Chevalle, don't need no Bentley truck or fuckin' Wraith 2014, addicted to lean, I was depressed as fuck Duckin' shots and wonderin' if my own niggas set me up And if they knock me down, I wonder would one of my niggas help me up? Pockets, they finger-lickin', they honey kettle chicken, breaded up Bitch, get your bread up, bitch I say my pockets, they finger-lickin', honey kettle chicken, breaded up, bitch This that new shit Madlib, that new shit Takin' over, new king, woo Let that shit ride out You better pray twice, nigga
Writer(s): Norman Virgil Whiteside, Otis Jackson, Frederick Jamel Tipton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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