Video musicale

In primo piano

Crediti

PERFORMING ARTISTS
QuinceLu
QuinceLu
Performer
Cxdy
Cxdy
Performer
Luis Alejandro Quintero Vargas
Luis Alejandro Quintero Vargas
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Luis Alejandro Quintero Vargas
Luis Alejandro Quintero Vargas
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Cxdy
Cxdy
Producer

Testi

From this moment forward, I'm gettin' what's mine: Fame — Money — Respect —Chicken chains And if you doubt that, all of you can suck my nuts! Gotta make it... Damn I gotta make it, Man Momma Imma make it... Pops you gotta understand If I gotta take it... Imma go and take it, than Bra I gotta make it... I waiting on no man Dawg, I gotta make it, Quince gon bringing home the bacon Ham, the bread and all the faces My pockets gon be looking like subway man Before he started banking Before he started fitting in them small ass pants And thats just while I'm tasting Once I get a slice I want the whole damn, pan Niggas ask for they piece But they don't wanna help you make the whole feast, ooh They tryna be some slick grease But I just grill em down like I got gold teeth, please Don't take me for no bullshit Ill put it in you face and tell ya suck deez, shit If you ain't tryna make it Then get up out my lane, I gotta get these bands Gotta make it... Damn I gotta make it, Man Momma Imma make it... Pops you gotta understand If I gotta take it... Imma go and take it, than Bra I gotta make it... I waiting on no man I need that check to say a milli off the jump Imma run a across the country, forest gump Imma bring back some rings that a king would put on She gone sing that that it stings from the back it's to long I'm hungry for dollars, I need it right now, fuck mañana, Got dogs with no collars, put gold on they neck, And tellem tellem tellem that we can fuck the next Rihanna I been going for a good minute now I gotta dark soul my heart tinted now Smoking stupid loud, I can never turn it down Trap life already done that You want beef boy I dropped A1 Already won that You counted me out But I made a return Now I'm so hot, when a song drop I make ya head burn Too much fire in they head phones We need head lines, I make heads turns I get head aches, from these dead fakes Im fuckin the game you can't cock block You all sound the same like a robot You want something dope put me on top I'm ahead of my time, You niggas rewind and copy older flows that I been popped I been rap You been pop We laced up You flip flop And That's real talk...(Aye, Aye) Gotta make it... Damn I gotta make it, Man Momma Imma make it... Pops you gotta understand If I gotta take it... Imma go and take it, than Bra I gotta make it... I waiting on no man Woop, got some cousins by the dozens, so no run ins, and no bustins For my family I be busting If I gota get to hunting, For the game, thats really nothing I ain't no fussing, I ain't no cuzzing, Ill just go demarcus cousins On the paint, ball, Imma break y'all, bank shot While Im wetting up the bad broads Have them looking at me like the nigga go hard Damn right they gon look at me like O- dog Who? Who! For my crew, imma do, On The Move, representing, bringing news For the dudes, on the snooze, wake up cause y'all bout lose, I don't bruise, I recoup, and I get up in a few, with the juice, Lu And thats me, always gon be real, ain't tryna cheat Always known this shit don't come for free So imma put that work, and gon achieve Gota make it...
Writer(s): Luis Quintero, Cody Rounds Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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