Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Big K.R.I.T.
Big K.R.I.T.
Vocals
Wiz Khalifa
Wiz Khalifa
Vocals
Smoke DZA
Smoke DZA
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Justin Scott
Justin Scott
Composer
Sean Pompey
Sean Pompey
Composer
Cameron Thomaz
Cameron Thomaz
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ralph Cacciurri
Ralph Cacciurri
Recording Engineer
Big K.R.I.T.
Big K.R.I.T.
Producer

Lyrics

You thought you were the only one ballin' You thought you were the only one slabbed out You thought you were the only pimpin' In the V.I with the broads and they ass out You thought you were the only one... Naww playa. You thought you were the only one... Naww playa. Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple 3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm Hook: 1x Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join You niggas do a show there and don't get no love I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up They say the game done changed Well that mean, you need to change too And stop with all that fuckin' hatin Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do Rightt You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans Riding deciding live maine or peeking Who said hustlers can't be king Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista Slide the first day, instant upgrade Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin' With the rich folks bout to blend in Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it
Writer(s): Megan James, Writers Unknown Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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