クレジット
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Gen 4K
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Robert Johnson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
AyJayB
Producer
歌詞
2 AM in Miami, smokin’ sour diesel.
I got them racks like Serena.
I got expensive addiction.
Drac’ in my cup, pint of Wock in two liter.
I know you can’t find what I’m rockin’
, red dot for a body.
If 12 get behind me, I leave it.
Go score and hit a buzzer beater.
It’s my brother ball I’m smilin’ from the bleachers.
****, it’s war ‘til one of us buried.
Chest jumpin’
, not gonna say he scary.
Fuck all that talkin’
, jump in them cars, my ****,
we sent you to the cemetery.
Hell nah, doctor, **** come save me.
Ambulance couldn’t make it, the chopper binary it.
Stomp in the whip, four **** jump out with masks,
shoot the J like Jason Terry.
Now your ho away, pockets on swoll.
He play in the club, he leave with bullet holes.
Just called my ****, got him talkin’ in code.
Catch an opp and go spin like D Rose.
Fully auto .45, do his ass the worst way.
Shoot him from his neck to his toes.
I’m havin’ flavor, cherry gelato.
Knock you out just like Roy Jones.
Micro drac , banana clip full of C2.
Escalade bulletproof, come out the roof.
You know it get wicked, this the life that we choose.
I’m tryna make a million out the booth.
Smoke in every city, I’m murder zone livin’
.
Can’t wave the white flag, lil’ bro don’t want no troops.
SMK murder gang, don’t leave a witness.
Better duck your Melly when we come through.
You gotta strive to be the greatest.
Bullets stop your car, cook you like bacon.
Overkill style, know he ain’t make it.
I’m supposed to be in the Heat, I’m a star in the making. (Star in the making)
I prayed so many nights for this shit.
My **** say I’m the one, just like McGrady.
Gotta, ****, take your life for this shit.
On the way to the top, this for them Bayou babies.
2 AM in Miami…
Yeah.
Smokin’ sour diesel.
I got them racks like Serena.
I got expensive addiction.
Drac’ in my cup, pint of Wock in two liter.
I know you can’t find what I’m rockin’
, red dot for a body.
If 12 get behind me, I leave it.
Go score and hit a buzzer beater.
It’s my brother ball I’m smilin’ from the bleachers.
Written by: Robert Johnson
