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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Vocals
Buddah Bless
Buddah Bless
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kentrell Gaulden
Kentrell Gaulden
Songwriter
Ty-Ron Douglas
Ty-Ron Douglas
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Buddah Bless
Buddah Bless
Producer

Songteksten

Buddah Blessed This Beat I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006 All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense He a million dollar nigga, but be posted in the bricks, ayy It make no sense, yeah-yeah, it make no sense, uh It make no sense, God, damn Make no sense, yeah, make no sense, nah-uh Make no sense, ayy, YoungBoy Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime I could hit it, I could whip it I could bag it, I could stash it I could trap out like a motherfucker And you know me, bitch, I just bought another .30 burner (.30 burner) I whip too hard, so I got Ike and Meech, got Tina Turner (whipping hard) It don't make sense, I'm not alright, bitch, I'll put you under I ain't cut too much, I got that shit that make 'em tweak like "damn" Can't be in front the trap too much, the world know who I am This shit ain't sweet, who close to me? I see 'em hating like damn All of 'em don't get the money, still gon' be the one to slay 'em Like, nigga, uh, nigga Nigga, bitch, nigga, baow, with my jewelry (fuck the jury) I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006 All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense He a million dollar nigga, but be posted in the bricks, ayy It make no sense, yeah-yeah, it make no sense, uh It make no sense, God, damn Make no sense, yeah, make no sense, nah-uh Make no sense, ayy, YoungBoy Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime 4KTrey, BoB, I been that bitch, you know it's me Tell them niggas, I say fuck 'em These hoes ain't shit, they want my cash, so I'll never love 'em (stupid bitch) I flash and beat a nigga ass with this 50 ball (I don't need no clique) On TV, I could tell my youngin', "Hit him with the cutter" Boom, motherfuck a nigga That's a bar, real nigga blessed him with that bar, and he say, yeah-eah He out the H, you play, he shoot you in your face Northside, bullets flying, back to back, bitch, when we ride I'm convicted, but it's an issue, I'll slide for a slime Die today, bitch, they say four pussy niggas died 'fore I died, slime I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006 All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense He a million dollar nigga, but be posted in the bricks, ayy It make no sense, yeah-yeah, it make no sense, uh It make no sense, God, damn Make no sense, yeah, make no sense, nah-uh Make no sense, ayy, YoungBoy Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime
Writer(s): Tyron Douglas, Kentrell Gaulden Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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