Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Thug
Young Thug
Vocals
Lil Boosie
Lil Boosie
Vocals
T.I.
T.I.
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Clifford Harris
Clifford Harris
Songwriter
Jeffery Williams
Jeffery Williams
Songwriter
London Holmes
London Holmes
Songwriter
Torence Hatch
Torence Hatch
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Joe LaPorta
Joe LaPorta
Mastering Engineer
Alex Tumay
Alex Tumay
Mixing Engineer
London On Da Track
London On Da Track
Producer

Lyrics

Niggas say they fuck with you, I can't tell 500, 000 dollar Chevelle I got bricks and birds for retail I got 100, 000 worth of belts These bitches and these niggas know that they can't play around here I call the spot elementary cause I keep a K around here All my Hatians if you play they make you grady baby I might shoot you in your head and that is no more thinking Pussy boy I'll leave you dead and call it dead-ication I put Act inside my drink, they call it medication Hold up, pull up, roll up, pour up Ounces in a soda Push up on your bitch and shawty I didn't even know her See this hood I throw up, realest one I ever seen ATL, call it XXL, cause we stay spittin' shells outta long magazine Real nigga got a crown, better own that thing If the game got a throne, bet I'm on that thing Beloved dope dealer and a well known King And a killer 'pending on how you put your spin on things You know how many suckers get ahead I've seen? Bout the same amount of pussy niggas dead I've seen You know how many bitches in the bed I've seen? They like asking me how much bread I've seen More than enough, in God we trust You love a real niggas then fuck with us But if you got a problem with it then fuck, what up It be ashes to ashes, dust to dust Got your bitch riding everything but the bus She let me put it everywhere but the butt I always tell the bitch don't talk so much She said "Who I'm hidin' from?" What the fuck, for what? Man that leanin so bad, I can't even do a push up for a million (Lean, lean, lean, lean, lean) Catch a nigga baby mama Make her give me nothing but ceiling (head) Never had time to wrap and cap And doubt the trap my ice a lamp I can't adapt, I'd rather the slap I read the pop, it's capped in now His mom is out, his dad, his cat 2004 I was screaming everything, Gucci no Big Cat And we was scannin' the ride with them cases of all these big racks Fuck a officer, Akon what it do bruh Keep these fuckin hoes off for you When you get some new money turn up uh You gon' wish you would've or could've Sit down and get rich like a booker Might drop the top up off it If I don't get into the helicopter Feeling like I'm on a blue dolphin Nigga roundin' round with like hella choppers Every time I need new surgery I gon call her my head doctor 5 more thousands cause she ain't got no head problems Yeah, all my niggas they be bleedin' niggas They ain't gon' never cheat a nigga Pop her while I'm in the latest season, nigga I'm a bag her every time I see her, nigga Fishing hoes with my Pockets all swollen, no book Glasses on, she don't know how I look Since I'm on how the fuck do I look? You ain't got no milli, you can't tell me how I look I'm a big old Blood over here You ain't read the paper, you ain't seen the news Got a team of goons bout action Never started, but I finish it so nasty Ask em, they know bout me I'm so Keyshia with the 9, rock a bye baby So smooth, so fly baby, rock a bye baby Let me turn up now 4 shows a week, 100 thousand a piece We getting bread now Mama don't worry bout nothin' You can kick up your legs now I ain't lying, got hitters on top of hitters Got hitters on top of hitters Rest in peace to my nigga Lil Bleek I miss you, I miss you nigga Just tryna live and have a lil fun nigga Nephew just came home, half a million dollar bond nigga I got fans that bust yo ass, you talk bout Boosie baby Got off my ass, went got that bag and Boosie made it Hey daddy made it
Writer(s): Clifford J. Harris, London Tyler Holmes, Jeffery Lamar Williams, Torrence Hatch Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out