Musikvideo

Young Dolph - Drippy (Official Audio)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Dolph
Young Dolph
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Adolph Thornton
Adolph Thornton
Songwriter
Michael len Williams
Michael len Williams
Songwriter
Samuel Gloade
Samuel Gloade
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
30 Roc
Producer
Ari Morris
Ari Morris
Mixing Engineer
Mike WiLL Made-It
Mike WiLL Made-It
Producer

Songtexte

Ayy Real drippy right now Lil' mama got ass for days, and I got cash for days That fake shit, I can't relate Hate, I see it all over his face (damn) Yeah I got racks in the safe Yeah I'm fuckin' on your bae Never keep dope where you lay Keep a draco or an AK Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag) Drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag) Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip) Drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy Prometh, sippin' My bitch she gettin' tipsy Valentino my outfit, my bitch she rockin' Fendi (drippy) Too much ice, it might make you dizzy Diamonds, hittin' Dead fresh, dig me (drippy) Drippy, drippy You a peasant, you cannot come near me (uhuh) Heard a fuck nigga wanna kill me 'Cause I treat his baby mama like a frisbee, yeah Fuck nigga, try again You lose, I win Shoot him in the ass, again Pray for my enemies, amen The realest nigga in it, ayy man Shit, this young nigga poppin', damn Nah, can't no nigga stop him Paper Route, we stand on top of shit Pull up in your city, we rockin' shit I'm in the streets where the hitters at I'm in the street where the dealers at I'm in the section where all the bad bitches at Lil' mama got ass for days, and I got cash for days That fake shit, I can't relate Hate, I see it all over his face (damn) Yeah I got racks in the safe Yeah I'm fuckin' on your bae Never keep dope where you lay Keep a draco or an AK Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag) Drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag) Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip) Drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy I used to want a million then I wanted ten now I want a 100 All my bitches got an onion, private jet out the country (let's go) Just to go shop and eat lunch Foreign hoes, I got a bunch Codeine (what else?), sweet tea (what's that?), call that a tropical punch (okay) I mix the Gelato with the lemon tree, call that a tropical blunt I give that green light and you done Ayy come here lil' mama, where you from? (Ey, what's up?) All of that ass, you the bomb All of that ass, you the bomb Now take this money, get on the plane I need you to go get a bomb I put her in Yves Saint Laurent I put 70 thou in my charm I put 50 grams in my trunk I was sellin' dope, I ain't go to prom (Damn, I wish I cloud've went to prom) But I get rich anyway so motherfuck the prom Drippy, drippy Lil' mama got ass for days, and I got cash for days That fake shit, I can't relate Hate, I see it all over his face (damn) Yeah I got racks in the safe Yeah I'm fuckin' on your bae Never keep dope where you lay Keep a draco or an AK Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag) Drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag) Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip) Drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy
Writer(s): Michael Len Williams, Samuel Gloade, Adolph Thornton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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