Clip vidéo

Apparaît dans

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Chant
Fivio Foreign
Fivio Foreign
Chant
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Oliver Moldan
Oliver Moldan
Composition
Bryon Potts
Bryon Potts
Paroles/Composition
Tommy Lee James
Tommy Lee James
Paroles/Composition
Ferdinand Media
Ferdinand Media
Paroles/Composition
Devin Guisande
Devin Guisande
Composition
Maxie Lee Ryles III
Maxie Lee Ryles III
Paroles/Composition
Kyle Guisande
Kyle Guisande
Composition
Rudi Dittmann
Rudi Dittmann
Composition
Bryson Potts
Bryson Potts
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Co‑production
Mike Seaberg
Mike Seaberg
Ingénierie de mixage
Tiernan Cranny
Tiernan Cranny
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Jaycen Joshua
Jaycen Joshua
Ingénierie de mixage
Madenka
Madenka
Production
Aaron Mattes
Aaron Mattes
Ingénierie de prise de son
DJ Riggins
DJ Riggins
Assistance d’ingénierie
Jacob Richards
Jacob Richards
Assistance d’ingénierie
Rachel Blum
Rachel Blum
Assistance d’ingénierie

Paroles

Ayy, MADENKA, I think that's the one, you know Na, na, na, na Na, na, na Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Niggas'll kill you for what you believe in I bought a new .40 for no reason It's getting cold, so it's coming to season He caught a body, he comin' through cheesin' We ain't with none of the crying and grieving You know that my shooters is dying to see 'em Niggas can't find him he hidin' we seekin' He in the city he dying this weekend I took a percocet, it keep me calm None of them niggas is doing me harm None of my bitches is doing me wrong I keep a smile, I ain't losing my charm I know the feds listen to this music So I never say what I do in these songs He send the addy, we pull up, he gone Up close, so I ain't shotting from long Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Ayy, duffel bag for the money, what the business is? All across the world, servin' different citizens I'ma make shit stretch 'til the end of end On my knees every night, but I'ma sin again Sorry Lord, can't say I don't know better (I don't know better) Big stepper, 'til my toes start hurtin' ('til my toes start hurtin') Get him killed, then write him a murder letter Few subliminals in my verses Big chain on my neck finna break my neck Need a brace for my neck, mm-hmm Hoe brain with the best, I ain't feeling her sex So her best friend next, mhmm (let's do it) Call collect to charter jets Then billboard charts happen next (we go) Got the big flex on my ex Hold it over her head 'till she meet her death (hoe hurtin') Declined my calls and missed my text I know them hoes regret I'm numb on a hoe, I ain't feelin' 'her He could be with the kid we gon' kill him (we gon' get em) Get the drop, then you know I'm a sinner (brrt) No tags on the whip, no rentals, ayy (grr) Hop out, lemme see the feet work, nigga We ain't finna shoot out no window (grr, grr) Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Dope Money Green, na, na, na Mm, na, na Na, na, mm, na, na Dope, mm, na, money, green, na, na
Writer(s): Maxie Lee Ryles Iii, Ferdinand Media, Bryon Potts Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out