Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
NAV
NAV
Vocals
Wheezy
Wheezy
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Navraj Singh Goraya
Navraj Singh Goraya
Songwriter
Wesley Glass
Wesley Glass
Songwriter
AMIR ESMAILIAN
AMIR ESMAILIAN
Songwriter
Jasper Harris
Jasper Harris
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Wheezy
Wheezy
Producer
Pro Logic
Pro Logic
Mixing Engineer
Rodrigo Barahona
Rodrigo Barahona
Engineer
MIKE DEAN
MIKE DEAN
Mastering Engineer
Jasper Harris
Jasper Harris
Producer

Lyrics

Wheezy outta here To riches from rags I just believed in myself and somehow, I made it out the block (woah) I hit the road, I spend a 20 clip minimum every time I wanna shop High out my mind I might just go buy another pair of some shit I already got (woah) I'm gettin' bags, I'm right in the middle of quarantine Made ten million on the dot Rick Owen pants, my right pocket full of them Xans I know that I said I would stop Man with the plan, I told 'em, "Just follow my lead" And I took my whole team to the top Don't check the tag and I don't check the receipt If I see it, I want it, I cop Shoutout GB's, I got some connections in Queens I get my J's before they drop Where do I start? All of my albums on charts, all of my cars push-to-start I had no hope I was just broke as a joke, I go shoppin' and I fill my cart You wouldn't believe me, I just been takin' it easy Pockets, they sloppy, they cheesy Made me feel guilty for all the shit I'm receivin' Your actions lookin' deceivin' Beverly Hills, I told her to stay where my suite is Told her the entry is keyless I'm gettin' paid to go on the mic And I feel like Mic' Jackson when she let me beat it Feel like a champ I got them Louis V pants, and they come with the permanent creases Look at my feet I got on them Travis Scott dunks, I got friends and them family pieces I make the plan, then they gon' hop out the van And take you for whatever you got My bitch is tanned, I'm on a yacht out in Cabo Got villas that take up the block When I get geeked, fuck around, tell her I love her But I really use her for sex Let her be free, I ain't 'bout catchin' no feelings I'm catchin' a flight on a jet She try to leave me, no, I'm not takin' it easy Fuck on her friend, she upset Knew I was smart, my teachers ain't think I'd achieve Give a fuck about passin' a test They wanna be me, million in diamonds, believe me Got rings, I could buy a Patek Opps lookin' dusty, I got some demons So trust me, keepin' my foot on they neck Where do I start? All of my albums on charts, all of my cars push-to-start I had no hope I was just broke as a joke, I go shoppin' and I fill my cart You wouldn't believe me, I just been takin' it easy Pockets, they sloppy, they cheesy Made me feel guilty for all the shit I'm receivin' Your actions lookin' deceivin' Beverly Hills, I told her to stay where my suite is Told her the entry is keyless I'm gettin' paid to go on the mic And I feel like Mic' Jackson when she let me beat it Feel like a champ I got them Louis V pants, and they come with the permanent creases Look at my feet I got on them Travis Scott dunks, I got friends and them family pieces Wheezy outta here
Writer(s): Amir Esmailian, Jasper Harris, Navraj Singh Goraya, Wesley Tyler Glass Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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