Listen to Classic (feat. Swizz Beatz) by Meek Mill

Classic (feat. Swizz Beatz)

Meek Mill

Hip-Hop/Rap

Music Video

Meek Mill - Classic Feat. Swizz Beatz & Jeremih (Official Audio)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Meek Mill
Meek Mill
Vocals
Swizz Beatz
Swizz Beatz
Vocals
Jeremih
Jeremih
Vocals
Bangladesh
Bangladesh
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Dustin James Corbett
Dustin James Corbett
Songwriter
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Songwriter
Shondrae Crawford
Shondrae Crawford
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bangladesh
Bangladesh
Producer
Sam Bohl
Sam Bohl
Assistant Engineer
Rick Ross
Rick Ross
Executive Producer
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Fabian Marasciullo
Fabian Marasciullo
Mixing Engineer
Anthony Cruz
Anthony Cruz
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Woo! It's hot outside man Meek Millys coming daddy Hundred for the walkthrough, I'm not who you talk to Drive by and wet you up, nigga thats a carpool Spitting all this hot shit, every single bar cool Diamonds in the rollie face, animated cartoon Call me Meek Milly, I don't play that shit Got me on my nappy braids before the Maybach clique Riding in the wheels of fortune, Pat Sajak shit And all I rock is Balmain like I made that shit I've been, front row fashion week looking like I'm in the show Sitting in the foreign leather, softer than a dinner roll Make a movie on your bitch, tell her friend to get a role You thought she was innocent, we laughing like she been a ho Jumpin' out them Benzos, meet yo bitch in the friend zone She told you I was friendzoned, what? I'm in the endzone Touchdown with a 2 point conversion, give her that dick long She busting like the clip long, uber to send your bitch home nigga It's hot outside, it's Meek Milly season I got a fever bitch Hot outside, I got a fever bitch Feeling sick, I got a fever bitch In these philly streets situations is Police ain't respecting the youth and The youth ain't respecting the truth and The Glock 9 on me in the booth and All I talk is that real shit the truth and The money turned your bitch into a gold digger The money got me feeling like the old Jigga And Jigga even told me you a cold nigga They ain't believe me I was broke but I showed niggas And I told niggas that I would expose niggas Went to buy a pair of sneaks, landed at the Royce dealer Brand new paper tag, haters never made me mad You can ask your baby momma, I'm flyer than her baby dad Looking at my neck, what that cost? Hundred-eighty cash Looking at my bitch, she remind me of a Stacey Dash We was selling rock before Kareem Biggs, Damon Dash Oh you think you fly with your lil' Dream Chasin' ass? We don't chase bitches, we chase money and that D'ussé Cause when you get money, the hoes do whatever you say Riding in a drop head, Phantom with the toupee And if you're just hearing this, then it's probably too late I got a fever bitch Hot outside, I got a fever bitch Feeling sick, I got a fever bitch In these philly streets situations is Police ain't respecting the youth and The youth ain't respecting the truth and The Glock 9 on me in the booth and All I talk is that real shit the truth and Get smacked silly, come to Philly Come see it live in direct You know it, God dammit
Writer(s): Shondrae L. Crawford, Kasseem Dean, Robert Rihmeek Williams, Dustin James Corbett Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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