Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Vocals
Fivio Foreign
Fivio Foreign
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Oliver Moldan
Oliver Moldan
Composer
Bryon Potts
Bryon Potts
Songwriter
Tommy Lee James
Tommy Lee James
Composer
Ferdinand Media
Ferdinand Media
Songwriter
Devin Guisande
Devin Guisande
Composer
Maxie Lee Ryles III
Maxie Lee Ryles III
Songwriter
Kyle Guisande
Kyle Guisande
Songwriter
Rudi Dittmann
Rudi Dittmann
Composer
Bryson Potts
Bryson Potts
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Co-Producer
Mike Seaberg
Mike Seaberg
Mixing Engineer
Tiernan Cranny
Tiernan Cranny
Mastering Engineer
Jaycen Joshua
Jaycen Joshua
Mixing Engineer
Madenka
Madenka
Producer
Aaron Mattes
Aaron Mattes
Recording Engineer
DJ Riggins
DJ Riggins
Assistant Engineer
Jacob Richards
Jacob Richards
Assistant Engineer
Rachel Blum
Rachel Blum
Assistant Engineer

Lyrics

Ayy, MADENKA, I think that's the one, you know Na, na, na, na Na, na, na Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Niggas'll kill you for what you believe in I bought a new .40 for no reason It's getting cold, so it's coming to season He caught a body, he comin' through cheesin' We ain't with none of the crying and grieving You know that my shooters is dying to see 'em Niggas can't find him he hidin' we seekin' He in the city he dying this weekend I took a percocet, it keep me calm None of them niggas is doing me harm None of my bitches is doing me wrong I keep a smile, I ain't losing my charm I know the feds listen to this music So I never say what I do in these songs He send the addy, we pull up, he gone Up close, so I ain't shotting from long Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Ayy, duffel bag for the money, what the business is? All across the world, servin' different citizens I'ma make shit stretch 'til the end of end On my knees every night, but I'ma sin again Sorry Lord, can't say I don't know better (I don't know better) Big stepper, 'til my toes start hurtin' ('til my toes start hurtin') Get him killed, then write him a murder letter Few subliminals in my verses Big chain on my neck finna break my neck Need a brace for my neck, mm-hmm Hoe brain with the best, I ain't feeling her sex So her best friend next, mhmm (let's do it) Call collect to charter jets Then billboard charts happen next (we go) Got the big flex on my ex Hold it over her head 'till she meet her death (hoe hurtin') Declined my calls and missed my text I know them hoes regret I'm numb on a hoe, I ain't feelin' 'her He could be with the kid we gon' kill him (we gon' get em) Get the drop, then you know I'm a sinner (brrt) No tags on the whip, no rentals, ayy (grr) Hop out, lemme see the feet work, nigga We ain't finna shoot out no window (grr, grr) Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Dope Money Green, na, na, na Mm, na, na Na, na, mm, na, na Dope, mm, na, money, green, na, na
Writer(s): Maxie Lee Ryles Iii, Ferdinand Media, Bryon Potts Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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