Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
DaBaby
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jonathan Demario Priester
Composer
Jonathan Kirk
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Super Mario
Producer
Kevin Mccloskey
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Twinkle, twinkle, I'm a star
Who want a drink? I'm at the bar
My favorite freak, I hit her raw
A lot of reefer, no cigar
I got a leaf up in the car
No, I don't smoke it, I just sell it
Ain't givin' nothin' out on credit
So come and see me when you ready
[Verse 2]
Don't make me rain on your parade
I love my **** like I'm gay
We go to Hell if we don't pray
I'm fresh as hell, look at my fade
Bitch, can't you tell it, I'm the wave
I can't pay for your bitch to get off
She keep tellin' me all of yo business
I can't wait for that bitch to quit talkin'
I can't wait till my clique start ballin'
Pull up, cash out on whatever
Got a new broad and that's my Cinderella
I fuck her friends, she gon' prolly get jealous
I got the sauce drippin' off like some chicken
I can't get lost in the sauce, I be pimpin'
Fuck what it cost, I'm a boss, I'ma spend it
I'm not fallin' off 'cause I'm 'bout my business, yeah
And I'm gettin' money, my ****, and God is my witness
I used to sneak in when my **** was fuckin'
And rob all the bitches
Somebody come home I can't leave
Out the door so I jump out the window
Then I start sellin' pounds out the rental car
Pull up, tell me what you spendin'
[Verse 3]
And I'm known for finessin'
I rob you for ya money, don't need a pistol
I ran off on the plug because the drugs
He front me is too expensive
Now I go get them racks for a show
And I swear it's a hell of a feelin'
(I got get the racks) (What you want for a feature?)
Go ask my manager, I don't remember
I'm right back on the road
Don't got no time for these hoes
Now they yellin' their feelin's
And free my cousin Dots
Free my **** Rell, they're both locked up in prison
I pull up wit' a chauffeur, hop out the suburban
Just like I'm P. Diddy
They let me off probation
I'm 'bout to go downtown and pick up my pistol
I was fuckin' your hoe on the low
When you see her tell baby I miss her
Used to give me that throat right before
She went home to you and let you kiss her
(True) (Why you do him like that?)
She be like, "Fuck him, that **** be trippin'"
Then she wipe up her mouth and I pull up my pants
Grab my shirt and get missin'
I'm gone
[Verse 4]
DaBaby, DaBaby, DaBaby, Dababy
Written by: DaBaby, Jonathan Demario Priester