We Got – Quin NFN: Songtexte, Musikvideos & Konzerte

We Got

10.844

Hip-Hop/Rap

We Got wurde am 17. März 2023 von NFN Entertainment / EMPIRE als Teil des Albums Never On Time veröffentlicht

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Songdetails

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Letzte 7 Tage

01:30 - 01:35

We Got wurde in der vergangenen Woche am häufigsten etwa 1 minuten and 30 sekunden nach des Songs entdeckt

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02:04

SONG-INFO

SONGTEXTE

Musikvideo

Musikvideo

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Quin NFN

Vocals

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Master Plan

Mastering Engineer

Stan Greene

Mastering Engineer

Songtexte

Pew, pew, pew, pew, pew

Yuh, yuh

We got some rocket, ice, some pills some weed some lean and Chardonnay

I got a ratchet, classy, bougie, basic, bitch from cross the way

We tote Choppas, Glocks, and Rugers ain’t no room to conversate

We got Benz's Porsche's, Beamers, Scats, and Cats that cost a bank

In the club with all these hustlers, trappers, rappers

And these robbers

She gon' fuck when I say "Fuck" just for Celine, Gucci, and Prada

In the section standing on couches wit' my patna's they can’t stop us

We been clutchin' on all of these Gats

Like we Mad Max and Biggs from Shottas (Ha)

We sell quarter, halves, and zips, we got Qp's, bowls, and all

She a stripper I'm gon' flip her knock her down and break her jaw

**** quick to claim a bitch

But knowing that bitch ain’t claiming ya'll

She only dancin', put me in his mentions I still play around

You get one or two or more, fuck the price we drop it down

You can pay me for your check, I spit that crack like Bobby Brown

**** loud until we draw that (Pew, pew, pew) make not a sound

She out the projects, if she got low mileage, I might knock her down

Bitch we strapped with ARPs, red roamin' DOA

When I walked inside the club, I'm having chips like Frito-Lay

**** muggin' in this bitch we asked that boy "Is he ok?"

Fuck it, I don't see your base, oh momma come get me yo' face

We got some rocket, ice, some pills some weed some lean and Chardonnay

I got a ratchet, classy, bougie, basic, bitch from cross the way

We tote Choppas, Glocks, and Rugers ain’t no room to conversate

We got Benz's Porsche's, Beamers, Scats, and Cats that cost a bank

In the club with all these hustlers, trappers, rappers and these robbers

She gon' fuck when I say "Fuck" just for Celine, Gucci, and Prada

In the section standing on couches wit' my patna's they can’t stop us

We been clutchin' on all of these Gats

Like we Mad Max and Biggs from Shottas (Yeah, yeah)

Written by: Quin NFN

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