Ascolta 'Surround Sound (feat. 21 Savage & Baby Tate)' di JID

Surround Sound (feat. 21 Savage & Baby Tate)

JID

Hip-Hop/Rap

5.088.494 Shazams

Video musicale

Crediti

PERFORMING ARTISTS
JID
JID
Vocals
21 Savage
21 Savage
Vocals
Baby Tate
Baby Tate
Vocals
Christo
Christo
Programming
DJ Scheme
DJ Scheme
Programming
Nuri Saberin
Nuri Saberin
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Destin Route
Destin Route
Songwriter
Nuri Saberin
Nuri Saberin
Songwriter
Shéyaa Bin Abraham-Joseph
Shéyaa Bin Abraham-Joseph
Songwriter
Tate Farris
Tate Farris
Songwriter
John Welch
John Welch
Songwriter
Gabriel Guerra
Gabriel Guerra
Songwriter
Eddie Snyder
Eddie Snyder
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Christo
Christo
Producer
DJ Scheme
DJ Scheme
Producer
John Kadadu
John Kadadu
Recording Engineer
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Mixing Engineer
Curtis "Sircut" Bye
Curtis "Sircut" Bye
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Nicolas De Porcel
Nicolas De Porcel
Mastering Engineer
Nuri Saberin
Nuri Saberin
Producer
Cyrus Massoud Taghipour
Cyrus Massoud Taghipour
Mixing Engineer

Testi

I know I can't afford to stop for one moment That it's too soon, too far- Push the fucking pack off of the porch or break a pound down Get this strap, if it happen to blow, it makes surround sounds Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town down Putting rap on my back, and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns I done came back around like a nigga sellin' crack in pounds I got a bag now, but it's nothing to brag 'bout Gun blast in the background, I'm a black man with the bloodhounds Mac 10 making love sounds to a bad chick, she from uptown I'm from down South, not a loudmouth, we can fuck around (whoa) Hit the music, baby, cut it down (whoa) Hit a doobie while you do me indubitably I feel like I'ma bust now (whoa) I feel like a bust down when I shine bright Blind niggas is up now (whoa, shit) In the cut, big black truck, pack sacked up You can pick it up now, nigga, fuck it, okay (ayy) Push the fucking pack off of the porch or break a pound down Get this strap, if it happen to blow, it makes surround sounds Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town down Putting rap on my back, and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns I know I can't afford to stop for one moment That it's too soon, too far- Me and my money attached emotionally I get to clutchin' if you get too close to me I'm at the top where I'm 'posed to be Jumped in the game, niggas act like they coaching me Four hundred racks ain't shit but a show to me I'm on the road and I bet that your ho with me When I'm in traffic, it's always a pole with me Pillsbury man, I keep dough with me Hit from the back, she giving me slurp, and I ain't even pull my pants down Jump in the box and slide to the other side, it's always a man down Draw down, hands in the air, nigga, make one move, get gunned down Giving out smoke so long, they don't even wanna talk no more, just run now No locked doors, I serve with a chop Bitch got spent, she was hanging with an opp We call him Mickey, he talks to the cops I was on panda, glass in the sock Back in the day, I invest in the block Fast-forward, now I'm investing in stocks I put a drum on the Heckler and Koch Don't play 'cause I'm very invested in shots Push the fucking pack off of the porch or break a pound down Get this strap, if it happen to blow, it makes surround sounds Pussycat on my lap, push it back and go to town down Putting rap on my back, and I'm blackin', snatchin' crowns Pu-pu-pussy cat in his face 'cause he stay off Cheshire Bridge Then I took it back, now he sayin' that he shakin' and he shiverin' Like the way it taste, and he ain't ate it in a minute They call me Yung Baby, but I still got hella chil- Talk shit, run that motherfuckin' crown, you bitch You motherfuckin' bitch Uh, shit Sorry in advance for my bros They'll whoop a nigga ass, what you whippin' up? (Whoa) JID in the bag, if you lookin' for that dope Niggas got it in the bag, 'cause we trappin' on the low And I'm the shit with the flow, huh, give me a joke Heard a nigga say that you the next? No, no, no I'm the best, tell 'em bitches stop the motherfuckin' press Press stop, fuck a top-five list, get 'em a vest, he get lopsided Fuck the cops, we was runnin' from Rottweilers Most of my partners ain't have poppa, just a popped condom Couple kids with Alzheimer's, .40 on his side Boy you Mike Alstott, he on the block violent Robbin' niggas in the hood and then swap genres Green light, line a nigga up, stop sign him Keep drivin', you will not find him I'm a, I'm a, I'm a normal anomaly, I turned into a rapper ironically And ran the bag up, back up, niggas is onto me Niggas should honor me, if you think that I'm a wannabe It's pretty comedy, I'm melancholy and cool So calmly bustin' moves, my truths carry velocity Same posse since OshPosh B'gosh, pussy clart Treat the rap like I'm pushin' rock On the stove with the Pyrex pot The door stay locked, it don't say knock We on they block, we own they block It's Monopoly games, we stole they properties Smooth talkin' and moonwalkin', same lil' niggas Small pond, but a pool shark, I aim, big stick Knock, chalk off cue balls, bang this shit Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha!
Writer(s): Nuri Saberin, Eddie P Snyder, Sheyaa Bin Abraham-joseph, John Welch, Tate Sequoya Farris, Gabriel Guerra, Charles Singleton, Destin Route Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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