Video musical

Créditos

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Meek Mill
Meek Mill
Vocals
42 Dugg
42 Dugg
Vocals
Nick Papz
Nick Papz
Programming
xander.
xander.
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alexander Papamitrou
Alexander Papamitrou
Songwriter
Dion Hayes
Dion Hayes
Songwriter
Nikolas Papamitrou
Nikolas Papamitrou
Songwriter
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jess Jackson
Jess Jackson
Mastering Engineer
James Royo
James Royo
Mixing Engineer
Nick Papz
Nick Papz
Producer
Anthony Cruz
Anthony Cruz
Recording Engineer
xander.
xander.
Producer

Letra

Certain shit I don't even say Certain shit ain't no need to say Yeah, big chasers, big chasers Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, woo Hood nigga, choppa to the jet, shit like GTA Fly them hoes out, send a caddy, what's the ETA? Fuckin' on this oiled lightskin bitch, look like Lisa Ray Niggas say it's up with me, it's stuck with me, shit, either way Watching all you weirdos on the 'Gram, it ain't no need to say Who the realest in this shit? I took a stance to lead the way I don't want no smoke with you, I see you, you 'gon plead your case 'Cause my nigga 'gon go at you And I'm 'gon tell him, "Bleed the brakes" (brrr) Yeah, brand new F&N, it ain't no checkin' in I told thе promoter "We can't bring them drums, thеn we ain't steppin' in" No rollin' over, we got lawyer money, don't do no questionin' Magnolia soldier, we gon' make it clap Shooters like Stephen and we warriors Comin' down Collins, 'bout to fuck story up Wake up in Cali, bad bitch, Waldorf Astoria Fly her to Bali, she ain't trippin', she on the tour with us Poppin' that pussy, actin' different She doin' more for us (she actin' different-different) Big racks, we got that bitch tweakin', yeah Spin back, we 'bout to get even, yeah (brrr) Niggas said it ain't no smoke with me, you better leave it there 'Cause if I see y'all niggas be poppin' out, I put it even there, for real Ooh (brr-brrrr), I turned shorty up Sipping on that 1942, I got my .40 tucked Oh, you got your 42, nigga, I got 40 of 'em I rock Carties, you can't see my eyes 'cause I be pouring up RIP my young boy, that's Osama, hit my shawty up Told me never trust a strippin' bitch 'cause that's what caught him up Every time you catch me in some shit, it cost like four and up Caught your homie lackin' at the light, so shit, we tore it up Feds came and grabbed you 'bout them bricks That's when he brought me up (yeah, yeah) (Feds came and grabbed him 'bout them) (That's when he brought me up) I been riding with choppas, aces, I'm glad you brought him up RIP my uncle, free my youngin, bitch we Audi'ed up I heard you fucked around, I'm fuckin' now, I like to pass shit I had 60 out of 62, I'm talking bad bitches I talk cash shit, I like to crash shit I'm vibin' on fast whips, I might go Lamb' truck I'm blowing it out if I get jammed up, them niggas ran, what? Threw his shit back if he ran up, Meek asked, cuz I make it jump then get it gone, nigga, ask Bud I got his bitch singing my songs and she half-Blood I'm half-rapper, whole-trapper, I got bad luck Turned into Mamba when it's drama, I don't pass much I post dawg and get cutty, I'ma shack somethin' (yeah) And every time we double back, my niggas whack somethin' (yeah) I ain't been selling too much crack, bitch, I got racks comin' Tell my bitch I love her And if you catch her cheating, nigga, tell that bitch it's "Fuck her" Boy in here eating, nigga, I can't wait to up it Bitch-ass niggas Free them boys
Writer(s): Alexander W Papamitrou, Robert Rihmeek Williams, Nikolas J Papamitrou, Dion Marquise Hayes Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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