Music Video

Gta (feat. LUCKI & Veeze)
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
DaeMoney
DaeMoney
Vocals
LUCKI
LUCKI
Vocals
Veeze
Veeze
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Brayan Crespo
Brayan Crespo
Composer
DaeJon Lamar Patman
DaeJon Lamar Patman
Lyrics
Karon Vantrees
Karon Vantrees
Lyrics
Keanen Self
Keanen Self
Composer
Lucki Camel Jr
Lucki Camel Jr
Lyrics
Martain Parker
Martain Parker
Composer
Zachary Kupiec
Zachary Kupiec
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
1800 It
Producer
Prod.Hydro
Prod.Hydro
Producer
zkup
zkup
Producer

Lyrics

(1-800 for you) My city it get cold, Supreme coats in November Supreme on my drawls, Supreme Timbs for the winter Put me on the plate, bases loaded, ninth innin' My granddaddy a pastor, whole life I've been sinnin' Apple Pay for lean, I done went over the limit Retire from the mall, I ain't been there in a minute I just took a pill, I could feel that bitch kickin' I live like GTA, gettin' paid for a mission He 'bout to kill himself, you smoke crack don't you? No shoe strings, you tote MAC don't you? My brother keep me lean, put no tax on me I'm in Amiri jeans, sippin' Act' like Corona You can't chill in the trap, that's the K, boy you sittin' on it You can have these lil' thots, fuck them all, I can't get no more You can come to my closet and shop, it's like different stores That boy quiet like Kawhi, but he shooting like that nigga Jordan Boy, you so fuckin' broke, it's like you gettin' younger Good ho, she too young for me, DaeMoney still don't want her My heart, that mufucka' cold and its gettin worse Who me? The mufuckin' GOAT, I'm just gettin' GOAT-er I'm a walkin'-talking karma, I can get her over Take his bitch, it's been some weeks that nigga livin' lonely We done paralyzed his man, they call that nigga "Soldier" Shot his ass, so much brown it's like livin' color She coulda caught a case, I was in high-school hittin' mothers Bitch, I'm 101, want some done? You gon' get another A real Bronx tale, I was raised by my fuckin' uncle Eight years old, shootin' dice made my first hunnid' I could tell you niggas broke, that's y'all first money That shit you lil' niggas flash, thats my Perc' money That shit you stashin' that's my "Put it in her purse" money You'on know jewelry, boy them stones ain't worth nothin' I was seven grabbin' ass in the hallways Fresh as hell, wearin' Balmains to the ball-games Put a switch on it, hittin' everything without aim Niggas dumb, really had money 'fore I had fame Chrome Heart druggie, 20 days straight Take it to the shoebox, a hunnid' plays straight Niggas uppin' throwbacks, tryna save face The table long as hell, bitch my whole team sayin' grace, ayy, ayy She say I'm annoying, I keep asking "Where the wock at?" I'm still on them 30s, and I'm itchin' where our Glock at I just scared a good ho away, I need to stop that You everywhere I'm not at, I'm turnin' off a Pot Nap We just put my new bitch on the road, I got a opp ass A-M-G, left for straight', cuz' he a copycat I just scared a good ho away, I need to stop that Sister gave me 50 for a show, can't even talk back
Writer(s): Martain Parker Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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