Συντελεστές
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Busta Rhymes
Vocals
Consequence
Vocals
Q-Tip
Vocals
Masayuki Hirano
Piano
Casey Benjamin
Organ
Blair Wells
Guitar
Chris Sholar
Acoustic Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kamaal Fareed
Songwriter
Trevor Smith
Songwriter
Dexter Mills
Songwriter
Kerry Minnear
Songwriter
Derek Shulman
Songwriter
Philip Shulman
Songwriter
Raymond Shulman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Q-Tip
Producer
Blair Wells
Recording Engineer
Gloria Kaba
Assistant Engineer
Jeremy Lubsey
Assistant Mastering Engineer
Vlado Meller
Mastering Engineer
Στίχοι
[Verse 1]
I break bread, ribs, hundred dollar bills
Dream about Bugattis and other four-wheels
They say Illuminati and other ordeals
Is how my lawyer got me to avoid a raw deal
And now it's more real than it is for any other star
And that's enough to have you tearing up the mini-bar
I should probably get awards where the Emmys are
For how I deal with the pap like Remy Ma
I get in the car like a sniper's on the roof now
But don't confuse how you see me, have to move now
I've got bars like the cypher's in the booth now
[Verse 2]
Ooo, child, things are gonna get easier
Long as they get my page right on Wikipedia
Long as they say my name right in the media
If you don't, that's a sin like Cincinnati
'Cause ever since I had the Polo suit at the Grammys
I been spittin' at the camera like Trick Daddy
So swaggy, he could've broke up with IG
I ain't surprised that they broke up on IG
I got the game on IV, might as well have a live feed
Keep a fresh cut from IB
So I always match the picture in my ID
They packin' Dub C had ran with Mack 10
I was still a baby Similac then
And what the crack era did to black men
It had to be an error if you had a Cadillac then
[Verse 3]
How I rock mine, I throw it up
Makin' sure that you **** all are on the same page
Powerful force, you better look both ways
Fuck that, I'm chokin' ****, it's goin' down
I'm from a different cloth, we the oracles of the sounds
Skip town, hit 'em with impeccable pound
Lost, found, the way I flood it, **** gon' drown
Rip shit, oh-wait, oh-wait, oh-wait, oh-wait, oh-wait
I gotta do it again, I gotta do it again
You already know the script, roundhouse kick
She lookin' at me, lickin' her lip
Put my arm around her like a bowl of chip with the dip
With your bitch, what the fuck, **** erupt
I got the half moon clip, that's banana, a good planner
A new anger like a larger Bruce Banner
[Verse 4]
Out the house, ****, if you open your mouth
Damn, ****, if you open you mouth
Fuck the press, I'm leavin' every room in a mess
Like herds of bulls with they aprons on and baking soda
Keep it movin', keep the convo short and bring a case of Henny
House of Pain, I control many
House of lies, you **** go run, hide
Peep the way this vibe conflict with they real lives
(****) Phonetic shit, we go bizarre
Bad news for **** as I go emphatical, radical
National animal rulin' like a czar
Every time I black for the record, the shit splatter
The whole data, no bullshit, the boom bapper
I pull the gat up, whip the shit, cook the batter
When I pull up on **** even yo mama gon' scatter
Written by: Derek Shulman, Dexter Mills, Kamaal Fareed, Kerry Minnear, Philip Shulman, Raymond Shulman, Trevor Smith