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Topsongs van Vince Staples
Vergelijkbare songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Vince Staples
Vocals
Coop the Truth
Programming
DJ Quik
Programming
DJ Dahi
Programming
nami
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Vince Staples
Songwriter
Cooper McGill
Songwriter
Dacoury Dahi Natche
Songwriter
Dewey Wilson
Songwriter
Dylan Ismael Teixeira
Songwriter
Earl E. Washington
Songwriter
John Sims
Songwriter
Luther Cook
Songwriter
R. Brooks
Songwriter
R. Smith
Songwriter
David Marvin Blake
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Coop the Truth
Producer
Matt Wolach
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Kenny Beats
Recording Engineer
Chris Gehringer
Mastering Engineer
Will Quinnell
Assistant Mastering Engineer
DJ Dahi
Producer
Tyler Page
Recording Engineer
nami
Producer
Songteksten
If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense
So don't kill game, let the pimpin'-
I ain't never quittin' on my homies from the set
Rather die a legend than be livin' with regrets
Granny up in Heaven, know she watch a nigga back
G Class, flyin' down' Orizaba Ave
I know that you love me but you gotta give me space
Money hungry women do whatever for a taste
All my people in the hood, what it's finna take
To have everybody livin' good? I don't wanna wait
In a minute, I'ma bust a juug, I'ma make a play
Hit the homie up and hit a lick, run in where you stay
All the pressure I be dealin' with, still ain't ever change
I'm about the money, I ain't fuckin' with the fame
DJ Quik (yeah, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars, then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
DJ Quik (get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars, then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid)
You should see the limit on my Amex
One phone call, and it's niggas at your address
I'm gon' ball 'til I'm sittin' in the grave
Fuck all y'all, bet Ramona get the last laugh
Close your mouth when you talkin' to a killer, bitch
They say I murder cuh, I say, "I'm innocent"
This ain't suburbia, these niggas ignorant
I always get my man, I only miss my bitch
Yeah, hit me up if you wish
I'm in the studio, couple guns, couple Crips
Tryna make a hunnid Ms, what's a couple bands?
Keep it comin' in, keep it comin' in
DJ Quik (yeah, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars, then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
DJ Quik (get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
If it don't make dollars, then it don't make sense (get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid)
(Get paid, yeah, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
(Get paid, young nigga, get paid, get paid, young nigga, get paid)
Nigga that you know that's been down for years
I've clowned for years, and y'all could never fade my peers
One, two, three, four, five-
Writer(s): Branson L Bagwell, Earl E. Washington, R. Brooks, John Sims, Dewey Wilson, Luther Cook, Dylan Ismael Teixeira, Cooper Douglas Mcgill, Vincent Staples, Dacoury Dahi Natche, David Marvin Blake
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