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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Skilla Baby
Skilla Baby
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tariq Crutchfield
Tariq Crutchfield
Songwriter
Andreas Michalaopoulos
Andreas Michalaopoulos
Songwriter
Jonathan Josiah Wise
Jonathan Josiah Wise
Songwriter
Tariq
Tariq
Songwriter
Trevon Gardner
Trevon Gardner
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Blvck
Blvck
Producer
André Berger
André Berger
Recording Engineer
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
Tariq Crutchfield
Tariq Crutchfield
Producer
Isaiah “ibmixing” Brown
Mixing Engineer
Prod_Blvck
Prod_Blvck
Producer
TeeMaine
TeeMaine
Producer

Lyrics

Oh, I thought of us (huh?) Tariq Uh-huh I grew up fast, I was thuggin' young All my bitches wanna meet my mama 'cause they love her son I'm a felon, still ridin' 'round with like a hunnid guns Put a different pair of shoes on and start another run Huh? These bitches icky, give me Vicky vibes Niggas Timmy odd and they give me pick me vibes E'ry time they see me elevatin', they get teary-eyed Coulda lost my life a couple time, it was clearly God (huh?) Niggas fear the guys, only thing I fear is God Only thing I hear is God when I'm in my Fear of God Beef'll make these niggas hide, we come quick like Jimmy Johns Put a sweet potato on the MAC like, "Nigga, pick your side" We be tryna catch these niggas slippin', they don't never slide You gotta know the revolution gon' be televised It's a nigga somewhere with his phone out usin' metal eyes E'ry week, I leave the state, I'm tryna find a better vibe (huh?) Ah, I gotta hustle, I can't take no L 'Cause I gotta pay my bills and all my bitches want Chanel 20 thousand on my pendant, couple on my belt Let my AR sing, it shake the table, call it K. Michelle Nigga got a bitch I like, I steal her, Le'Veon Bell I ain't got no weed for you to smoke, baby, I sell I hope God gon' let me into heaven, I made it through hell A lotta niggas wanna see me fall to say that I failed Wake up, put my shoes on, baby get her Trues on I be fresh to death, might put Mike Amiri on my tombstone All my ARs fully, pull up by myself, get all the goons gone I'ma move on if she don't wanna give me head My big bro a Crip, he mad as hell he gotta sip the red It's a lotta ho niggas wanna see me dead Hit my hoes at a hotel, they never seen my bed Huh, me versus me, huh? All my hoes like rich niggas We ain't trippin' 'bout the hoes, you never see me with no simp niggas All of us up six figures, or at least we up enough to get you disfigured My brother bleed, but I got a family full of Crip niggas They go by F&F, I be by myself, that's when I'm at my best 'Cause I can't call a lotta niggas to clean up my mess I hustle on my own, custo' on my phone, Needo on my other line My sister tired of her friend tellin' her her brother fine Mike Amiri who? Don't come near me, huh I be havin' days I only talk to Siri, huh I took the tint out my buff to see shit clearly Needo say I gotta go support my cousin at his hearin' I been in that room before, you know I feel you, bro It ain't never easy facin' time, you know I feel you, though It's only gon' make you stronger, it ain't kill you, bro, huh? Fss, uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh Huh, me versus me, huh?
Writer(s): Jonathan Wise, Trevon Gardner, Tariq Crutchfield, Andreas Michalaopoulos Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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