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Meek Mill - Classic Feat. Swizz Beatz & Jeremih (Official Audio)
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Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Meek Mill
Meek Mill
Chant
Swizz Beatz
Swizz Beatz
Chant
Jeremih
Jeremih
Chant
Bangladesh
Bangladesh
Programmation
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Dustin James Corbett
Dustin James Corbett
Paroles/Composition
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Robert Rihmeek Williams
Paroles/Composition
Shondrae Crawford
Shondrae Crawford
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Bangladesh
Bangladesh
Production
Sam Bohl
Sam Bohl
Assistance d’ingénierie
Rick Ross
Rick Ross
Production déléguée
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Fabian Marasciullo
Fabian Marasciullo
Ingénierie de mixage
Anthony Cruz
Anthony Cruz
Ingénierie de prise de son

Paroles

Woo! It's hot outside man Meek Millys coming daddy Hundred for the walkthrough, I'm not who you talk to Drive by and wet you up, nigga thats a carpool Spitting all this hot shit, every single bar cool Diamonds in the rollie face, animated cartoon Call me Meek Milly, I don't play that shit Got me on my nappy braids before the Maybach clique Riding in the wheels of fortune, Pat Sajak shit And all I rock is Balmain like I made that shit I've been, front row fashion week looking like I'm in the show Sitting in the foreign leather, softer than a dinner roll Make a movie on your bitch, tell her friend to get a role You thought she was innocent, we laughing like she been a ho Jumpin' out them Benzos, meet yo bitch in the friend zone She told you I was friendzoned, what? I'm in the endzone Touchdown with a 2 point conversion, give her that dick long She busting like the clip long, uber to send your bitch home nigga It's hot outside, it's Meek Milly season I got a fever bitch Hot outside, I got a fever bitch Feeling sick, I got a fever bitch In these philly streets situations is Police ain't respecting the youth and The youth ain't respecting the truth and The Glock 9 on me in the booth and All I talk is that real shit the truth and The money turned your bitch into a gold digger The money got me feeling like the old Jigga And Jigga even told me you a cold nigga They ain't believe me I was broke but I showed niggas And I told niggas that I would expose niggas Went to buy a pair of sneaks, landed at the Royce dealer Brand new paper tag, haters never made me mad You can ask your baby momma, I'm flyer than her baby dad Looking at my neck, what that cost? Hundred-eighty cash Looking at my bitch, she remind me of a Stacey Dash We was selling rock before Kareem Biggs, Damon Dash Oh you think you fly with your lil' Dream Chasin' ass? We don't chase bitches, we chase money and that D'ussé Cause when you get money, the hoes do whatever you say Riding in a drop head, Phantom with the toupee And if you're just hearing this, then it's probably too late I got a fever bitch Hot outside, I got a fever bitch Feeling sick, I got a fever bitch In these philly streets situations is Police ain't respecting the youth and The youth ain't respecting the truth and The Glock 9 on me in the booth and All I talk is that real shit the truth and Get smacked silly, come to Philly Come see it live in direct You know it, God dammit
Writer(s): Shondrae L. Crawford, Kasseem Dean, Robert Rihmeek Williams, Dustin James Corbett Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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