Video musicale

In primo piano

Crediti

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Money Man
Money Man
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tysen Jay Bolding
Tysen Jay Bolding
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Rocktee
Rocktee
Producer
B Boy Beatz
B Boy Beatz
Producer
Hellion
Hellion
Producer
808 Plug
Producer
Nicolas De Porcel
Nicolas De Porcel
Mastering Engineer

Testi

I got numb to the pain, ain't no more feelin' left inside me Seen a nigga get slain, the streets they shiesty and they grimy Better make sure you on point 'Cause if you ain't, you might get bodied, yeah I got a motherfuckin' family to feed Was a juvenile just like 400 Degreez We was servin' and scammin', ain't got no degree We ain't got no diplomas but we got some Ps All that hatin' a sickness, that shit a disease I'ma ride for the next shit, ain't talkin' 'bout Z She the perfect creation, I hit it and flee I own cattle so you know I ain't duckin' no beef This heart in me ain't even real no more Gotta get it and go, I'ma grab me a pole 'fore I walk out the door I'ma up it and blow and turn him to a ghost I'ma up it and blow and smoke him like a pope I should live on a farm 'cause I feel like a G.O.A.T. I should get the C8, you'd be stupid to race Oh, he think that he hard? I must lack any taste Secret Service, reservin' that federal hate All the niggas that traded, they dead to me now Told her, "Come here, and please give some head to me now" Gettin' rich from these boxes, I'm sendin' 'em out I got shooters around, I be sendin' 'em out If it's pussies around, I be fishin' 'em out Sweats be killin' her, I'm really feelin' her, I'm really diggin' her Chill out, lil' nigga, your pockets ain't big enough Chill out, lil' nigga, you know you ain't rich as us I just want loyalty, I just be needin' trust I don't want nothin' else, I just want to make her bust Niggas be talkin' shit, then they go tell on us I'm not a barber but I'ma gon' line 'em up We ain't gotta ask no more, we never dryin' up Hold him for ransom, we finna go tie him up I'm not a lamp but I'm finna go light 'em up Yeah, yeah Tried to give you my heart But really you ain't even deserve it Every time I'm on 'shrooms I think 'bout knowledge and my purpose Even though she got flaws In my eyes, lil' shawty perfect, yeah I tried to show you a better way, you're just a featherweight I gotta sit back and medicate Hit him with bullets, I hope he got Medicaid I been legit since a jit in the second grade Lyrical, but I'm not talkin' 'bout Lemonade I gotta traffic this work on the interstate My girl is purdy and curvy and smart Bruises on me from the jungle with scars He tryna drive away way with the car But it won't make it far, we gon' make his shit stop I love the way that she make that shit pop And I'm lovin' the way that she make that shit drop I made a hundred from Shiba Done made me a hundred from ADA, I know a hundred ways Stick hit his ass and I bet he disintegrate We finna pull up and seek and eliminate Yeah, yeah Tried to give you my heart But really you ain't even deserve it Every time I'm on 'shrooms I think 'bout knowledge and my purpose Even though she got flaws In my eyes, lil' shawty perfect
Writer(s): Tysen Bolding, Joel Puente, Brian Stewart, Hellion Hellion, Colm Whyte, Iana Jackson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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