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Créditos
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Chicken P
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rahkeib Smith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kaleb Rollins
Mastering Engineer
Grabba Beats
Producer
Troy Ashford
Recording Engineer
Letras
Baby, I don't want no company, scratch my back for me
(Oh shit, you ain't got no Grabba)
Hmm, mm, mm, on me
Huh, you know I could—
Ayy, hey
****, I could sign a tennis player, all these racks on me
Bae, the drank bad, can you scratch my back for me?
Hmm, you **** out here bad, **** out here flat, huh
Bitch, I been in my bag, I been eatin' like a fat ****
I'm heavyweight, you welterweight, we in two different classes
I got marble on my countertops and pints all in my cabinets
I was broke, they played rich and I got rich 'fore I thought they cappin'
I can't fake kick it with ****, y'all ain't think this shit'll happen, huh
Hmm, how you get rich and fall off, my ****? That shit backwards
All this shit came from hard work, my boy, it ain't just happen
I be thinkin' 'bout some millions while you thinkin' 'bout a caption
I had to break the law so many times, I pray they never capture me
****, every day I be outside, why **** actin' like they after me?
I'm the type to shoot from half court and make it, I got accuracy
Told the lil' bitch, "I want a steak and not from Applebee's"
The game'll never ever be the same, baby, after me
I fucked and she got to callin' me on my name when she had to leave (Frrt, beep)
What the money counter say? I know your ass can read
How the fuck? Tryna pour this four up, but damn near crashed the car
11K in Louis, they ask if I got cash or card
I know a **** got smoked, thought his ass was hard
I'm ridin' with a brick of dope, drivin' past the Target
I met a bitch on the road, she like, "Your ass the hardest"
"Boy, you done came a long way like your ass was starvin'"
Hmm, I'm in Miami, out the way in an Aston Martin
I hear a snake, but it's cool, I'm an anaconda
What they hollerin'? 'Fore these **** play, I'll spend every dollar
He tried to duck, then he came back up and got hit in his collar
I could show you how to create thousands, ****, I'm like Tyler
****, I could sign a tennis player, all these racks on me
Bae, the drank bad, can you scratch my back for me?
Hmm, you **** out here bad, **** out here flat, huh
Bitch, I been in my bag, I been eatin' like a fat ****
I'm heavyweight, you welterweight, we in two different classes
I got marble on my countertops and pints all in my cabinets
I was broke, they played rich and I got rich 'fore I thought they cappin'
I can't fake kick it with ****, y'all ain't think this shit'll happen, huh
Written by: Rahkeib Smith