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Rich Gang - Panties To The Side Ft. French Montana Tyga Bow Wow & Gudda Gudda
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Apparaît dans

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Rich Gang
Rich Gang
Interprète
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Tyga
Tyga
Composition
Bryan Christopher Williams
Bryan Christopher Williams
Composition
Karim Kharbouch
Karim Kharbouch
Composition
Andrew Harr
Andrew Harr
Composition
Jermaine Jackson
Jermaine Jackson
Composition
S. Moss
S. Moss
Composition
Carl Lilly
Carl Lilly
Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
The Runners
The Runners
Production
Fareed Salamah
Fareed Salamah
Ingénierie de prise de son
Jeff "Supa Jeff" Villanueva
Jeff "Supa Jeff" Villanueva
Ingénierie de prise de son
Jess Jackson
Jess Jackson
Ingénierie de prise de son
Vadim Chislov
Vadim Chislov
Ingénierie de prise de son
Sean Buchanan
Sean Buchanan
Assistance d’ingénierie de prise de son
Ronald "Slim Tha Don" Williams
Ronald "Slim Tha Don" Williams
Ingénierie de mixage

Paroles

I think I fell in love man, hahaha Shorty cold blooded... Shorty pull her panties to the side Told me keep my feelings to the side For them tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds, tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds Tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds, tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds Shorty pull her panties to the side Told me keep my feelings to the side For them tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds, tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds Tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds, tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds Tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds, tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds Tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds, tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds She move them panties to the side She give me head while I drive These bitches flyin' in like flies Maybach, no roof, turn a bitch, butterfly Rose gold in that Autobon, I'm gettin' money in real time That big hand on them dollar signs, I'm on west coast rich time Get punched out for yo' punchlines, these niggas snitchin' like I did the crime I get the cake like the baker man - no Jamaican kush, that's Beenie Man These niggas hood-hoppers, don't give a bitch no options I do this shit for my squadron, ain't got no time for no conference I call up some real niggas, but they ain't 'bout that talkin' I walk in wit' my bitch, fattest ass in the party Aye French we in the club way too much, ya know what I'm sayin'? You know we playin' with new bands, homeboy... Started with a stack, then I got 5 mo' (do it right) Could have bought a ball team, with all this money I blow Walk in stalls, cause these hoes know I'm finna go retarded Ballin hard no James Harden, Bentley truck to big to park it (skrrt) Comma get for that work, gettin head blowin purp One hand on this blunt, other hand up her skirt Pussy sweet like apple juice, fuck her til her pussy loose And when I'm done, pass her to my man, so Ben can see what that pussy do And she touching herself, what you gone off a molly? And she thick, and she finer than a mothafucka, lookin like tatted-up Holly Fuck all night no strings attached, say no on love shit, girl this some fun shit Dick too long and when I lick this spot I'mma make you cum quick Tens, twenties, fifties, hunnids I'm, with the, number, one, stunna Hands, rubbin, every, time we, doin', numbers (haha) GT, vodka, all, summer Yeah, its time to bring them 'raris out Scratch that, we bringing them Bugattis out I'mma show em how to get this money I'm laughin' to the bank, you niggas money funny I'mma real nigga, you is a counterfeit Throw a hunnid racks, tell her count it bitch Money blowin' like a fountain, bitch All my paper adding up, you only talking shit
Writer(s): Carl E. Lilly, Michael Stevenson, Jermaine Jackson, Bryan Williams, Shad Gregory Moss, Karim Kharbouch, Andrew Brett Harr Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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