Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Quando Rondo
Quando Rondo
Vocals
James Therrien
James Therrien
Programming
Sammy Burlet
Sammy Burlet
Programming
Cubano jam
Cubano jam
Programming
JTBeatz
JTBeatz
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
James Therrien
James Therrien
Songwriter
Julian Alberto Menendez
Julian Alberto Menendez
Songwriter
Sammy Burlet
Sammy Burlet
Songwriter
Tyquian Bowman
Tyquian Bowman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
James Therrien
James Therrien
Producer
Sammy Burlet
Sammy Burlet
Producer
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Adam Catania
Adam Catania
Mixing Engineer
Cubano jam
Cubano jam
Producer
JTBeatz
JTBeatz
Producer

Lyrics

(JT on the track again) as a matter fact, pulled up with extra ammo (Samy made this shit) stopped by the store, me and my loc, like get a pack of camels (Damn, Jam, this shit a vibe) Every day we head hunting, red-ruming I can't keep it out my fucking mind We wait 'til nighttime, then we ride Dirt certified behind the wheel, them bullets flying Ayy, I know I say this every time We really live the life of crime Load it up, dust, ashes to ashes No choice but duck, we'll shake them, blast it My VVs blinding like some headlights Roll that dope up, ha, dead guy Stick came with a red eye He shouldn't have never had his head high They ran him down, he had a head price How the cops gon' catch me? This a red eye (oh, yeah) Choppers out when I jump out the car, fresh like a dead body I be in the trenches with them youngins, waiting on they stimmy Glock 4-0 extension, another homi', it's just me and Timmy Four more of them bitches speaking on me, aim it at their fitteds Fuck the opps, they broke, ain't got no money, plus we fucked their bitches Spin with your rod, now let that fire hit Lil' youngin really 'bout it, put that smoke out like a fireman We be fighting dogs inside the yard, I feel like Michael Vick Hell nah, that ain't no righteous shit I be on something locced out, rich and Rolling on some rider shit Beefing with the whole town, slit his throat, some Michael Myers shit Could have signed to Motown, but it's fuck 'em, Never Broke Again Since he in love with that bitch, make sure he don't see that ho again Shake 'til the scope off of the stick just to put it on this pole again I bet that chopper make 'em get back, ain't no Get Back, nigga, fuck you want? Ski gon' be sleeping with a stick out by the door, it ain't no running up Late night, we creepin' on they bitch ass, get down low, Drac' got a hundred up Bitch, plus my pockets got a hundred in 'em I bet that rod take out a hundred men, a hundred men I can't keep it out my fucking mind We wait 'til nighttime, then we ride Dirt certified behind the wheel, them bullets flying Ayy, I know I say this every time We really live the life of crime Load it up, dust, ashes to ashes No choice but duck, we'll shake them, blast it My VVs blinding like some headlights Roll that dope up, ha, dead guy Stick came with a red eye He shouldn't have never had his head high They ran him down, he had a head price How the cops gon' catch me? This a red eye (oh, yeah) Choppers out when I jump out the car, fresh like a dead body 3-0 in my 4-0, fuck 5-0 'cause, bitch, I'm 6-0 (nigga what?) Hit from the back, bitch, let my dick go Like fuck that, watch the pistol pick-roll We popped the car then let that stick blow To get with us, you need 'bout 6-0 Jump out all-black, I'm with a rich ho They jump out, black gon' pull a kickdoor For fifteen hundred, youngin knocked 'em off We gon' kill 'em all by one-by-one, I want the top dog Really fucked up in the head, might let a junkie eat my dick and balls They got my thug inside the feds, when he touch down, he get the biggest Glock Two double cups, I'm sipping red to bring the X down, plus this Adderall Suppressor on the Glock with thirty shots inside the Gen 4 They quick to link up with the opps, that's every time they know the pressure on Same day that Timmy get out, he'll go back, in love with busting domes Lil' brother bust that nigga head 'cause he got caught without that pole Come here, where you going? Pull off, pull off, skrrt Hello? Ayy, turn on the news real quick It is getting outrageous, seventeen murders Every day we head hunting, redruming, red ruming, red ruming, yeah I can't keep it out my fucking mind We wait 'til nighttime, then we ride Dirt certified behind the wheel, them bullets flying Ayy, I know I say this every time We really live the life of crime Load it up, dust, ashes to ashes No choice but duck, we'll shake them, blast it My VVs blinding like some headlights Roll that dope up, ha, dead guy Stick came with a red eye He shouldn't have never had his head high They ran him down, he had a head price How the cops gon' catch me? This a red eye (oh, yeah) Choppers out when I jump out the car, fresh like a dead body
Writer(s): Tyquian Bowman, Julian Menendez, Samy Burlet, James Therrien Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out