Video Musik

Dari

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Curren$y
Curren$y
Vocals
Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Songwriter
Fredrick Tipton
Fredrick Tipton
Songwriter
Shante Franklin
Shante Franklin
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Eddie Sancho
Eddie Sancho
Mixing Engineer
Joe LaPorta
Joe LaPorta
Mastering Engineer
Rich Gains
Rich Gains
Engineer
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer

Lirik

Yeah, yeah ha Nigga just, you know what i'm sayin', the king of, you know King of talkin' shit Yeah, yeah You can't know how far You can't know how much You don't go, when you fuckin' with the blow Choppa style, chop chop, choppa style Shout to Gazi, Arabic numbers in my Rollie dial My baby said if I be faithful, she gone hold me down (Real shit) I'm fuckin' these hoes, I want it all like a only child 'Bout to take a trip, I got coke and dope on my grocery list OxyContin pack, I be switchin' rackets like Djokovic Stood up on my deen, the machine ain't never promoted this Coldest nigga you ever heard on Alan or Otis shit (And you know this shit) Bitch, it's liquid golden when I'm over shit (Yeah) I fill up the track like a Mr. T starter kit, spit the hardest shit I should grow a muh fuckin' mohawk and get a black van with a red stripe Nigga say I got 'em for his weight, I shot him in his face That pussy boy was dead right (Dead right) It's just a freestyle, let a nigga breathe I don't know what's worse To have the IRS or have your baby mamas in a nigga's cheese Had to cut a couple bitches off I guess they used to think that they was out a nigga league Ghostface, I got ice cream Russian, Puerto Rican, Black and Blackanese nigga what You don't know how far You can go, how much You can grow, how far You can go, when you fuckin' with the blow From a seven hundred square foot apartment Never claim to be the king of New Orleans Though my new castle one of the largest From helicopters, federal photographers takin' pictures My driveway full of Impalas and I'm not stoppin' for one minute If they really thought they knew somethin' They would've been came to come get me Not sayin' that they would've got me, though You copy, bro, I'm out at Mojave Desert, dune-buggies and Kawasakis You gotta know to have fun with your money Young hustler, watch me Keep hittas around me 'Cause niggas be clownin', can't trust nobody It might be your partner that drop your body That shit not shockin' I see it all the time, livin' in this wild world of crime Scribblin' lines on her mirror Bitches nose dive, who am I You don't know how far You can go, how much You can grow, how far You can go, when you fuckin' with the blow "You mean to tell me you guys have never snorted coke? Well, I always wanted to try, you know But you want to, right? Why not? It's great stuff, Albi A friend of mine just"
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Freddie Gibbs, Shante Scott Franklin Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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