Music Video
Music Video
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Dolph
Vocals
Key Glock
Vocals
Cassius Jay
Programming
Jonathan Demario Priester
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Adolph Robert Thornton Jr.
Songwriter
Markeyvius LaShun Cathey
Songwriter
Jonathan Demario Priester
Songwriter
Joshua Cross
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Cassius Jay
Producer
Jonathan Demario Priester
Producer
Lyrics
[Intro]
Yeah, yeah
Supah Mario
That boy Cassius
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Hey, hey
That boy Cassius
That stiff dawg shit ****, uh
[Verse 1]
Skinny-ass **** in some big Balenciagas
My girl was mad at me, so I took the bitch shoppin'
Drankin' champagne, spend the racks all in Prada
Everybody know that he a big shit popper
Smokin' ice cream, rollin' on some peach cobbler
Hitters on the payroll and a couple doctors
Why the fuck you think I pour up all of this Wockhardt?
Hit the alarm on the 'Rari and it go (Brrt, brrt)
Park the 'Rari, jump in the Challenger (Skrrt, skrrt)
Feds watchin' me so I scramble 'em (Shake 'em up)
Had your bitch at the room, but I had to put her out
She too freaky, nah, I couldn't handle her (Damn)
My young **** walk around with chandeliers (Damn)
Yeah, chandelier the shit Khaled talkin' 'bout (Damn)
Dolph hit the club, then the bitches comin' out (Damn)
I heard the opps in the club, ****, point 'em out (Bitch)
****, stop all that hidin' and runnin' 'round (Rrah)
I make your broke-ass brother gun you down (Rrah)
Damn, you too thick, girl, turn around (Rrah)
Lemme smack it one time and see how it sound
Millionaire but I make my boy lay you down
They don't give a fuck, they don't play around
Somebody text me, so I look down
My bitch waitin' on me in a Gabbana gown
[Verse 2]
Yeah, bitch, I still wear Gucci
I'm chillin' with a groupie, beatin' up her coochie (Beat it up)
Uh, Glizock, my life a movie (Glizock)
Guess who shoots it? Your bitch, I do's it (I do)
Uh, ballin' real hard, no recruiting, yeah (On God)
Paper Route winnin', never losin', uh (Gang)
Before I drop the top, I been ruthless, yeah
Give it to 'em raw like sushi, uh (Raw)
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah
Still goin' dumb, uh (Dumb)
Mr. Glock, the baguette don, yeah (Baguette)
Exotic smoke in my lungs, ooh (Yeah, yeah)
I really came out of them slums (Out 'em)
I'm finna buy me a house with a pond (Yeah, yeah)
Yeah, and I put this shit on my moms, yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I think I was born with a gun (Yeah, yeah)
I'm a son of a gun, uh (Yeah)
Bitch, you know where I'm from, yeah (Bitch)
South Memphis, filled up with villains and gremlins
Lil' **** with extensions on guns, yeah (Thirties)
Don't play with the kid, you know how I get (You know it)
I get that shit done, uh (Done)
Maybach on my wrist, this young **** lit (Lit)
And a Porsche on my guns, duh (Woo)
[Outro]
Shit don't make no sense, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
This shit don't make no sense (No sense)
This shit don't make no sense (No sense)
Shit don't make no sense (Make no sense)
Shit don't make no sense (No sense)
Yeah
Written by: Adolph Robert Thornton Jr., Adolph Thornton, JOSHUA THEODORE CROSS, Jonathan Demario Priester, Markeyvius LaShun Cathey

