Muziekvideo

Verschijnt in

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Future
Future
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Nayvadius Wilburn
Nayvadius Wilburn
Songwriter
Wesley Glass
Wesley Glass
Songwriter
Joshua Luellen
Joshua Luellen
Songwriter
Jacob Canady
Jacob Canady
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Wheezy
Wheezy
Producer
Southside
Southside
Producer
ATL Jacob
ATL Jacob
Producer
Bryan Anzel
Bryan Anzel
Recording Engineer
Eric Manco
Eric Manco
Recording Engineer
Mike Synphony
Mike Synphony
Assistant Engineer
Fabian Marasciullo
Fabian Marasciullo
Mixing Engineer
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
Ivo Groenendijk
Ivo Groenendijk
Assistant Engineer

Songteksten

808 Mafia Fuck around, parked the 'Vette and didn't even get back in it ATL Jacob, ATL Jacob Redbone bitch, yeah, like Hi-Tech, yeah How do I dress? Yeah, like my flesh, yeah Soon as I roll up, put my doors up Go'n head, pour up, roll a few O's up, let's go Four by four, that tall shit, let's go I jumped in the spot on a tall bitch, let's go I told 'em to get out and bag that, let's go I'm Frank Lucas and Mad Max, let's go I'm high from yesterday Put 'em on bean, yeah, put 'em on all the schemes, yeah Put 'em on lean, yeah, they whippin' them new machines, yeah By any means, yeah, we gotta clear out the scene, yeah I just took an AK to a dinner date I just put some VVs in a Richard face And the presidential is a day-date Hit 'em with that chopper first, Ray J I'm a well known nuisance and my bitch bad Pop one Perc', then you lean like kickstand Skeleton AP, that's a wristband All these niggas shaky, might as well dance I don't trust him, we gon' dust him, that's some Taliban Big foreign truck, it's lift up like an avalanche I'll teach you how to finesse for some big bands I got so many white bitches, Ku Klux Klan I come with the pharmacy, come with the yopper, no harmin' me, no, no Put a lil' hit on your head, They comin' to get you, they slicin' your throat Put a lil' bitch in the bed, we goin' digital, wipin' her nose M.O.H., money over hoes I got that H in front of the lil' boat Got dog food and it's for the low I'm with thoroughbred standin' at the store In expensive threads, head to the floor I know they talkin' shit 'cause they some hoes You know them FN bullets go through doors F&N (F&N), F&N (F&N) F&-F&-F&-F&— F&-F&N (F&N) F&N (F&N), F&N (F&N) F&N (F&N) I was too high for the brodie You beat a body, get a Rollie We don't entertain no police I'm certified with my dodie They would catch hell 'bout woadie Got a bigger scale for the dodie I done met friends in Dolce We done met and chopped it up on some cool shit, uh Only time my slime talk murder's on the cruise ships, uh Got that cutter and it's longer than a pool stick, uh Straight face, no dates, I'm a heavyweight I ain't even gotta tell my dawgs to keep one in the chamber Ready to take it off your shoulder, frustration and anger Yeah, they get it, don't approach us, fuck bein' famous Long as I got my... Let's go F&N (F&N), F&N (F&N) These bullets, they be goin' through doors Drop low, get down on the floor Young nigga, they gon' 'head and wipe your nose F&N (F&N), F&N (F&N) F&N (F&N), F&N (F&N) F&N (F&), F&N (F&N) F&N (F&), F&N (F&N)
Writer(s): Nayvadius Wilburn, Joshua Howard Luellen, Wesley Tyler Glass, Jacob Denzal Canady Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out