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JACKBOYS - What To Do? (Lyrics) Feat. Don Toliver
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Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Don Toliver
Don Toliver
Chant
Travis Scott
Travis Scott
Chant
CHASE B
CHASE B
Chant
Luxury Tax
Luxury Tax
Chant
Sheck Wes
Sheck Wes
Chant
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Jacques Bermon Webster II
Jacques Bermon Webster II
Paroles/Composition
Caleb Toliver
Caleb Toliver
Paroles/Composition
Khadimoul Fall
Khadimoul Fall
Paroles/Composition
James Austin Cyr
James Austin Cyr
Paroles/Composition
MIKE DEAN
MIKE DEAN
Paroles/Composition
Earlyyellow00
Earlyyellow00
Paroles/Composition
Julius-Alexander Brown
Julius-Alexander Brown
Paroles/Composition
Sarah Schachner
Sarah Schachner
Paroles/Composition
Douglas Ford
Douglas Ford
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Travis Scott
Travis Scott
Ingénierie de prise de son
London Cyr
London Cyr
Production
Jenius
Jenius
Production
MIKE DEAN
MIKE DEAN
Ingénierie de mixage
Rob Bisel
Rob Bisel
Ingénierie de prise de son
Derek Anderson
Derek Anderson
Ingénierie de prise de son

Paroles

Why did we fall that evening? Silhouettes for the evening You might just be my type And I know just what you like but I'm— Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do I woke up on the seventeenth Drunk as hell, you tellin' me I was in the club, full of jealousy Damn near caught a felony One thing I know, two just wanna ride (uh-uh) I did it outside (uh-uh) I, you better go hide (uh-uh) Put it on her feet and I glide Step with the three like Clyde, slide, slide We rock the cream on the pie-ie-ie But that's my better side (yeah) I can't tell a lie (uh-uh) This is televised (uh-uh) You need better guys Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Woke up on the seventeenth With them tattoos, just is tellin' me And them fantasies is outstandin' me I'm only on the beat between 10 and 3 Took you, move you outside to the West Down Southside by the 'jects Tell me what a time, what a wreck Never let it down, never let Always thought T was a rex Never thought T was a wreck Put the ice T on your neck (neck) When it go cold make you sweat Never let you go, never (go, go) Never let you go, you the best But never let it go to your head (no) I always got control of the Woah (yeah) Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Silhouettes for the weekend And you might just be my type And I know just what you like but I'm— Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Fuck the club up Still with my dawgs Please don't make the wrong moves, 'cause my weapon cocked Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up (uh-uh, yeah) Don't know what to do (yeah) Still fucked up, still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up, still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up, still fucked up (yeah) Still fucked up, still fucked up (yeah)
Writer(s): Douglas Ford, Wes Sheck, Mike G. Dean, Julius Brown, Niv Kalisky, Jacques Webster, Caleb Toliver, James Austin Cyr, Sarah Elizabeth Schachner Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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