Video musical

Incluido en

Créditos

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tyga
Tyga
Vocals
Jess Jackson
Jess Jackson
Keyboards
Rick Ross
Rick Ross
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tyga
Tyga
Composer
William Leonard Roberts II
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
Jess Jackson
Jess Jackson
Songwriter
Michael Stevenson
Michael Stevenson
Songwriter
Trocon Roberts
Trocon Roberts
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jess Jackson
Jess Jackson
Mastering Engineer
FKi 1st
FKi 1st
Producer
John Rivers
John Rivers
Recording Engineer
Matt Anthony
Matt Anthony
Assistant Recording Engineer

Letra

I can feel it T-Rawws, rock my own kick game Eight-figure deal, figure how I'm courtside at clip game Still pop ace king shit, I'm with Rozay Black Maybach leather gloves on that OJ Okay, the day you beating me bitch, no day Bandz a make her dance, that's thousand dollar foreplay AK, get a full clip, not a soundwave You kissed her in her mouth, ask her how my dick taste Bitch nigga, you don't want no drama, I'm worth a couple commas It's death before dishonor Last King come sign up, all my shit be designer Extroardinary rhymer, I bodied yo' shit for nothin' Wes, west up, hot temper Get wet up, she give me head not neck up She clean the mess up One false move death from gesture Cash in the safe nigga, I don't feel no pressure I'm dope All my shit dope (All) All my shit dope 'Cause it's 1-8-7 how I'm killing these hoes (All) All my shit dope (All) All my shit dope 'Cause it's 1-8-7 how I'm killing these hoes H on the Buckle, Hermes and the hustle Crown on the watch, young niggas still thuggin' 8.7 on the crib so fuck it Went gold in a month so it ain't no budget New chains, rolex links New chick just to drag my mink New car just to ride 'round here Aviator crew, we flyest 'round here Hating on hood niggas dying 'round here Bath Salt Boss, got insurance on the beard Cars rockstars, dope boys at odds I done seen it all, but it's back to these broads Hands clap like a nigga in the stadium Million dollar chain, but I'm rocking eight of 'em I see you slipping boy, don't make me pick your label up Scottie Pippen on the dribble, I just laid 'em up Another triple got me tripping like it's angel dust We just winning all the women in my table ah Say my name, say my name nigga, say my name 100 million dollar nigga, nigga say my name Dope All my shit dope (All) All my shit dope 'Cause it's 1-8-7 how I'm killing these hoes (All) All my shit dope (All) All my shit dope 'Cause it's 1-8-7 how I'm killing these hoes Chief rocka, pill popper Told her pull them things out 'cause my car topless Off topic, get on top it, what's your synopsis? So sincere in her belly, that's that Nas shit King announcing that gangsta shit we mobbin' We taking your dollars creflo, no white collar I (pop pop) wish a nigga would call Thomas Bitch I'm the bomb, call me the unabomber Money in my game, I'm driving shit that's insane You niggas stay in your lane, no playing ain't nothing changed Pardon this good regime, I make your girl David Blaine Murder was the case, all the kids say that nigga T-raw Dope All my shit dope (All) All my shit dope 'Cause it's 1-8-7 how I'm killing these hoes (All) All my shit dope (All) All my shit dope 'Cause it's 1-8-7 how I'm killing these hoes I can feel it
Writer(s): Jess Jackson, Markous Roberts, William Roberts, Andre Young, Calvin Broadus, Michael Stevenson, Colin Wolfe Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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