Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lil Wayne
Lil Wayne
Vocals
2 Chainz
2 Chainz
Vocals
Mike WiLL Made-It
Mike WiLL Made-It
Programming
J-Bo
J-Bo
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tauheed Epps
Tauheed Epps
Songwriter
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Songwriter
Justin Garner
Justin Garner
Songwriter
Michael L. Williams II
Michael L. Williams II
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mike WiLL Made-It
Mike WiLL Made-It
Producer
Fabian Marasciullo
Fabian Marasciullo
Mixing Engineer
Manny Galvez
Manny Galvez
Recording Engineer
Jason Delattiboudere
Jason Delattiboudere
Assistant Recording Engineer
J-Bo
J-Bo
Producer
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
David Morgan
David Morgan
Assistant Mixing Engineer
M. Testa
M. Testa
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Mike WiLL Made-It Ear Drummers I can't trust my iPhone, I can't trust these b- Haters praying for my downfall, at least they're religious People in Hell, they want rainfall, your b- just want these digits I feel like I'm on her payroll how she pay my a- a visit We put both iPhones on silent, both iPhones on silent I only answer for my n- careful with that dialogue Man, my house ain't got no house phone My flip phone is a chip phone Got a prepaid and that b- on But still, I use my b- phone 'Cause I can't trust my iPhone, I can't trust my SIM card I got Siri talkin' dirty to me, tryna make my d- hard I got Tunechi on my ringtone, my children on my home screen I choke you with the phone charger Sold more crack than my phone screen, let's go Fur floor, mask on, bare feet, n- 100K a week, that's a bad week, n- I can sell dogs to a cat freak, n- Sell monkey bars to a chimpanzee, n- But you never know what you never know N- sell you coke and it wasn't coke Hang 'em off the building and let 'em go That's how you make a statement that they should quote I seen death around the corner And I lived right by the corner store I'm a hot boy, I'll burn your hand I'm a real life Untouchable I run the show, I run the show Sell anything but my soul And I'm prayin' that the only cuffs That touch my wrist come with button holes, for real Smokin' on the good Killin' these h- like Blair Underwood Rest in peace to my daddy Rabbit, I swear to his lucky foot Ever since he died of jealousy, I've been looking for a cure You see, my daddy had that work, now they watch his son get to it And just like he ran them streets, I run with bulls If n- buyin' I throw out some numbers to 'em Numbers soundin' yummy to 'em You need more, just call my h-, I gave her phone number to 'em 'Cause you know I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds Pull up in that thing with Stunna, paint it period red Go tell your boss we can get 'em cheaper than where he paid Let's go I can't trust my iPhone (nope), .44 on my thighbone (nuh) You can have the eye of the tiger I'm the one the tiger better have his eye on, okay Fussin' with my redbone, hang up with my high gone (why?) Ball 'til I fall, and when I do, them h- gon' pile on, uh Assault rifle, now mouth off Some n- make it all the way to the top And ball too hard then bounce off Like my homeboy, let his b- cook the work and it came out wrong Almost beat that h- to death, I had to call my plug and vouch for him 'Cause I ain't even got an ounce for 'em I keep running out on 'em Everybody gotta eat, just try not to leave the mouse crumbs .223 right here, this to keep the whole house warm Then I skate by one of my h- house Girl, I gotta use your house phone 'Cause she know I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds I can't trust that Samsung, I think Sam the feds Cocaine, pour the 28 gram buffet Turn your block into a police ambulance parade, let's go I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds (woo) I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds (yeah, yeah, yeah) Pull up in that thing with Stunna (yeah), interior red (tell 'em) Go tell your boss we can get 'em cheaper (2 Chainz) Than where he paid, let's go, yeah (boom, boom, boom) Hello? (Hello?) Most of my niggas from the ghetto (ghetto) Through the concrete grew a rose (grew a rose) Petals smellin' like gun metal (bah) Smoke a joint the size of a limo (yeah) My girlfriend wearin' stilettos (yeah) My wife don't like when I call my girlfriend my girlfriend She think she's special (tru) I'm whippin' and flippin' the extras (woo, extra) F- that b- off a text message (damn) You know what it is when you f- with the kid I got medicine all in my beverage (lean) Look at your watch, it say my time (my time) They callin' my phone like a hotline (hotline) I'm about to switch this sh- up Got a metro for my thot line (woo) Got to crip walk on the outside (yeah) Whip the same color apartheid (yeah) On the phone kickin', pimpin' You know I surround that b- out like a chalk line Ooh, Siri backwards spell Iris I ring, iPhone don't work on this island (true) AK smilin' as I pose for a threat All these bad h- in here, we need a pole in this b- If they're quick to pick her up, I cut that b- like a machete I might overdose on shrimp scampi in a telly, I'm like I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds Pull up in that thing with Stunna, interior red Go tell your boss we can get 'em cheaper Than where he paid, let's go, yeah I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds I can't trust my iPhone, I think Siri the feds
Writer(s): Terrence Thornton, Jean Baptiste, Deleon Blake, Yogesh Tulsiani, Constantios Nicolaides, Elli, Steven Victor Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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