क्रेडिट्स
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Goldenboy Countup
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Roderick Golden Jr.
Songwriter
Anthony Woodward
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
WoodOnDaBeat
Producer
गाने
[Verse 1]
Golden, c'mon
Hey
I'ma let this bitch breathe, ****
But without my foot on these **** neck, won't let these **** breathe, ****
Yeah
Jump in this coupe, bitch
Put your seatbelt on
We going 100 miles per hour through the stop signs
[Verse 2]
Hey, c'mon
I'm on that fly shit
I'm on that fly shit
****, ay, Golden
[Verse 3]
So much pain in my body, momma, I don't know who to trust
Always knew I was gon' blow ****, I feel it in my guts
I was broker than a bitch, rollin' mids in a Dutch
Mike died, ****, I gotta get these Ms it's a must
I treat her like a baby momma, but she used to be my lady
And I ain't taking care of you hoes, ****, I'm taking care of my baby
You bitches kicked me when I was low, so don't be mad a **** made it
And Golden really seein' M's now, my ex-bitches hating
****, I was fucked up, I was sleeping in my car
****, I was posted up, selling weed out the jar
****, I sold 100 pills, then bought my first car
Fast forward a couple years, "Golden you a superstar," ay
[Verse 4]
Trap shit, ****
Came out that mo'fuckin' trap for real, ****
Give a fuck what no **** talkin' 'bout, ****
Feel me? Ay
Know what I'm sayin'?
Ain't bout the, ain't bout the, ain't bout the hardest ****, ****
Then get that mo'fuckin' money, ****
[Verse 5]
Dope boy Ree's and Dicky fits, ****, we trapped out
Fuck **** you really ain't really get no money, we know you capped out
I just fucked his bitch like a dog, then she tapped out
I will drop them bands on that ****, get em clapped now
Dope boy Nikes and white tees, jit we really trap
We don't even listen to those **** 'cause they really cap
On my momma, I'ma trap ****, I don't really rap
How the fuck them **** in the club, and them **** strapped
I just fucked a pretty black bitch on 200,000
I told cuh "This a long way from them public housing"
I got rap money and trap money, I got money piling
I can peep a police ass, ****, I can hear the sirens
448 on that scale, that's a whole chicken
****, you want 33 grams? That's a Scottie Pippen
He said he can't trust his own dogs, they'll Money Mitch him
Cuh, you peep a snake **** around you better gon' and flip em (Brrt)
Written by: Anthony Woodward, Roderick Golden Jr.

