Vídeo musical

Presentada en

Créditos

PERFORMING ARTISTS
ScHoolboy Q
ScHoolboy Q
Vocals
Jay Rock
Jay Rock
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Quincy Hanley
Quincy Hanley
Songwriter
Johnny McKinzie
Johnny McKinzie
Songwriter
Pharrell Williams
Pharrell Williams
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Pharrell Williams
Pharrell Williams
Producer
Andrew Coleman
Andrew Coleman
Recording Engineer
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Mixing Engineer
Gee Bizzy
Gee Bizzy
Recording Engineer
Mike Bozzi
Mike Bozzi
Mastering Engineer

Letras

I'm a groovy type nigga, rather two-step with you Pants sagging, rag dragging, rather gangbang with you Triggers squeeze, throw a palette, throw them thing-things with you Hot degrees, anti-freeze, chilling cool-cool with you Cool with you, cool with you Chilling cool-cool with you Hot degrees, anti-freeze, chilling cool-cool with you Cool with you, cool with you Chilling cool-cool with you Pants sagging, rag dragging, do my gangbang with you Groovy nigga, jumped off of the peg 4th by my 3rd leg, plead the 5th No Ls, no whips, backyard full of Crips Barbecues and county blues, this Hoover gangster be the shit It ain't much up on our list, shoot the killer and hit the licks Get EBT up out the bitch, gangbanging, fuck a clique Yup, I'm looking for a scrap See, my Cripping done spread around the world Put his top below his bottom, it's the reaper Looking like the reaper in your driveway Strays through your living room Liable to drive-by on a summer day July 4th will be in June Bla-tay bla-tay bla-tay bla bum The sound of the drum that Crips and Bloods know Bla-tay bla-tay bla-tay bla bum The sound that the drums sing I'm a groovy type nigga, rather two-step with you Pants sagging, rag dragging, rather gangbang with you Triggers squeeze, throw a palette, throw them thing-things with you Hot degrees, anti-freeze, chilling cool-cool with you Chilling cool-cool with you Hot degrees, anti-freeze, chilling cool-cool with you Chilling cool-cool with you Pants sagging, rag dragging, do my gangbang with you Don't make me put a lean to a nigga spleen Shells through a nigga, pariiing, Peedi Crack, riiing Stop a dream in its tracks beam down Little boy now, dream little boy, dream Coke go in the pot, arm and hammer body A$AP Rocky, want it I can get it Onion in my pocket like the booty on a midget Diamond on my rollie, teach a nigga how to fridge it Looking at the times, they been winning for a minute See my neck, co-defendant, what's the problem? Seen the souls long gone before I got them He was dead before I shot him, it's the reaper Looking like the reaper in your driveway Strays through your living room Liable to drive-by on a summer day July 4th will be in June Bla-tay bla-tay bla-tay bla bum The sound of the drum that Crips and Bloods know Bla-tay bla-tay bla-tay bla bum The sound that the drums sing I'm a groovy type nigga, rather two-step with you Pants sagging, rag dragging, rather gangbang with you Triggers squeeze, throw a palette, throw them thing-things with you Hot degrees, anti-freeze, chilling cool-cool with you Chilling cool-cool with you Hot degrees, anti-freeze, chilling cool-cool with you Chilling cool-cool with you Pants sagging, rag dragging, do my gangbang with you Tell me more about it in the gutter Where it started with the Cripping Blue on campus know it happened Tell me more about it in the gutter Where it started with the Cripping Then the Bloods done got it brackin' (Suwoo!) I'm just a Eastside nigga William Nickerson, show you what it be like, nigga Lit 'em up, light 'em up like a street light, nigga Follow me, I can show you what these streets like, nigga Handle bars of a Schwinn, guns blow like dusty winds Spend a band, push his wig back when that revolver spins Toe tag 'em, false flagging like it's all good Tell niggas tee off like Tiger Woods, where you from? We never heard of ya, walking with the murderers Niggas that'll murder ya, steal you like a burglar Seemed the soul was long gone before I got them He was dead before I shot him, it's the reaper Ain't no worries, darling 'Cause we're going to Spain, catch a plane to Tibet, darling Can I show you this world, baby? Ain't no rules to this life, darling
Writer(s): Pharrell Williams, Johnny Mckinzie, Quincey Hanley Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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