Vídeo musical

Presentada en

Créditos

PERFORMING ARTISTS
EST Gee
EST Gee
Vocals
FOREVEROLLING
FOREVEROLLING
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
George Stone III
George Stone III
Songwriter
Jeffrey Lynn Jones
Jeffrey Lynn Jones
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
EST Gee
EST Gee
Recording Engineer
FOREVEROLLING
FOREVEROLLING
Producer
Royce Monroe
Royce Monroe
Mixing Engineer
Don Cannon
Don Cannon
Mastering Engineer

Letras

I told my daddy, I'm tired of hurting you know what it is You know niggas really don't like theirself Man, I'm cool with me, I'm a gangster Ain't no emotion in my blood, I ain't never did no fuck shit I ain't never put no blacklight up, I'm a real nigga (forever rolling) I said don't cry for me when it's over Shit, and I still don't feel nothing (yeah) I been through so much, I don't give a fuck (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) Life of a bandit Winning all my battles now my section got a champion yea No rat and not no faggot, getting money been my passion I factored in the fraction, this shit gaining on me faster Turn around and face it These niggas want smoke with a gangsta, I'ma lace 'em I hop out with them bangers, I told tak I been a chaser It wasn't after dreams Forever with lil' dig 'cause I know he will die for me (and I'll die for him) Diggin' graves 'fore I beef, we leave blood in the street Hate never harmed me, it was love made me bleed (the love did this shit) I pay for everything, so what I fuck her? let me be (so what I fuck her?) She look and said the police 'bout to come, you should leave (what) The only way to hurt me, take my son away from me (what) This watch and this chain cloud your judgement of me (what) I'm still the same nigga brought a ton through the east I'm still the same nigga, man, two thousand pounds On jacob, lambton, man, jackson, I love them niggas Hold yo' head up like a man and never die a coward With you for a year, you never had over a thousand dollars (ain't have no money) Niggas had the nerve to tell my family I'ma join my mama Angry at her funeral in the front row, I popped peach roxies Riding like I'm ox down niggas' blocks, increased violence Deep sliding, pop another perc', don't even think 'bout it Dead so grieving they can see it, let my dreads grow Freaky see me down on that ride with his leg broke It hurt worse than being dead broke Wish I could ask Jigga why they did it but he dead though Reason that it's fifty-sixty blues for a dead loc I want the whole blood line Sliding through the island with the zaza ducking one time Never let 'em play me like a pussy, nigga, one time It's gone be some shots fired, man down, yellow tape, homicide It's gon' be some shots fired, man down, yellow tape It's gon' be some shots fired, man down, yellow tape It's gon' be some shots fired, lay 'em down, hands down, uh Shots fired, lay 'em down
Writer(s): Jeffrey Lynn Jones Jr., George A. Stone Iii Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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