Listen to Private Landing (feat. Justin Bieber & Future) by Don Toliver

Private Landing (feat. Justin Bieber & Future)

Don Toliver

Hip-Hop/Rap

Music Video

Don Toliver Private Landing feat Justin Bieber and future (Official Visualizer Audio)
Watch {trackName} music video by {artistName}

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Don Toliver
Don Toliver
Vocals
Future
Future
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Omar Guetfa
Omar Guetfa
Composer
Rob Bisel
Rob Bisel
Composer
Ronald LaTour
Ronald LaTour
Composer
Derek Anderson
Derek Anderson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Omar Guetfa
Omar Guetfa
Producer
Rob Bisel
Rob Bisel
Producer
Eric Manco
Eric Manco
Vocal Recording Engineer
Derek Anderson
Derek Anderson
Recording Engineer
Josh Gudwin
Josh Gudwin
Vocal Recording Engineer
Dominic Vicario
Dominic Vicario
Assistant Recording Engineer
Damon “DJ” Riggins Jr.
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Jacob Richards
Jacob Richards
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Mike Seaberg
Mike Seaberg
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Rachael Blum
Rachael Blum
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Jaycen Joshua
Jaycen Joshua
Mixing Engineer
Joe LaPorta
Joe LaPorta
Mastering Engineer
Cardo
Cardo
Producer
RYAN MELLOW
RYAN MELLOW
Recording Engineer
206Derek
206Derek
Producer
Ryan "Mellow" Venable
Ryan "Mellow" Venable
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

I'm feelin' stuck (feelin' stuck) I'm off a bean (yeah), like, what the fuck? (What the fuck?) I'm in the trees (trees), I look up (look up) What you need? (What you need?) Got it up (ooh-ooh) I don't know why these hoes can't stand me I guess I'm too demanding Went ahead and double coat, the candy (candy) I'm so high, no landing (landing) Drippin', that glock get steady (steady) Rockin' that shit, confetti (confetti) They all let it go on the telly (telly) They all wanna rub my belly I got my dawgs out I'm poppin' at the Ritz (at the-) I got em coming in, shit look like a blitz (look like a-) She wanna check me up, she wanna check my fit (check my) I pull up, the Maybach jumpin', shorty better check my hits I don't know why these hoes can't stand me I guess I'm too demanding Private landing, I guess I keep my candy She super soaker when the beaches sandy I got her in Yoko, better call me Randy Diamonds and Margiela, AP canary yellow She deserve a Patek, cause she one of the members When it come to Saldava, money not a problem Turned me to a killer, I just smashed a model Tiffany come blue, her pussy good and pink Chicago in the winter time I'm ordering minks Selling out arenas I just murked the streets Copped me a brand new castle in the middle east My bitch sit Indian style when we sit down and eat I can do this shit one take, but my style ain't free (Pluto) I don't take hoes on no date unless they got pretty feet (I swear) Quarter million on her head, quarter million on her head She mop me down the best, I can't feel my legs I done sniped off yo hoe, for a crumb of bread Got racks going out the roof, they bustin through the ceiling My new bitch she the truth, she showed me a couple million Is Don here ready like I'm I'm feelin' stuck (feelin' stuck) I'm off a bean (yeah), like, what the fuck? (What the fuck?) I'm in the trees (trees), I look up (look up) What you need? (What you need?) Got it up (ooh-ooh) Keep goin', mmm (oh) Keep goin', keep goin' (mm-hmm) Keep goin', keep goin' Mm, keep goin', keep goin' Mm, keep goin', keep goin' Mm, go, go Mm, keep goin', keep goin' Mm, go I guess I'm spendin', double cup, I'm leanin' (So good, so good, taste it, talk to me) Guess I'm spendin', double cup, I'm leanin' Need you to lean in (lean) She wanna come this way, uh (come on) Heat it up, microwave (microwave) Heat it up, mic, what, what? She wanna ride my wave She wanna come this way (she wanna) She wanna, uh (she wanna), she wanna She wanna, notice how you're feelin' tonight (so tight) Oh, it's how you're feelin' tonight I guess I'm too demanding, I guess I'll keep my candy (I tried to tell you but you know they been misguiding you) Just touched down in Miami (in Miami) I guess I'll keep my candy, I guess I'm too demanding She wanna ride my wave, she wanna rock my chain Heat it up, microwave, come on, I'll show you place (come on) She wanna ride my wave, she wanna rock my chain Heat it up, microwave, come in, show you my place I'm feelin' stuck (feelin' stuck) I'm off a bean (yeah), like, what the fuck? (What the fuck?) I'm in the trees (trees), I look up (look up) What you need? (What you need?) Got it up (ooh-ooh)
Writer(s): Justin Bieber, Nayvadius Wilburn, Caleb Zackery Toliver, Derek Ryan Anderson, Omar Rayan Guetfa, Robert Clark Bisel, Ronald Nathan Latour Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out