Créditos

INTERPRETAÇÃO
EL-P
EL-P
Vocais
A$AP Ferg
A$AP Ferg
Vocais
Matt Sweeney
Matt Sweeney
Violão
Killer Mike
Killer Mike
Vocais
Dana Lyn
Dana Lyn
Violino
Danton Boller
Danton Boller
Baixo
Cochemea Gastelum
Cochemea Gastelum
Saxofone
Michael Ferguson
Michael Ferguson
Vocais
COMPOSIÇÃO E LETRA
Jaime Meline
Jaime Meline
Composição
Michael Render
Michael Render
Letra
Wilder Zoby Schwartz
Wilder Zoby Schwartz
Composição
EL-P
EL-P
Arranjos (cordas)
Jeremy Wilms
Jeremy Wilms
Arranjos (cordas)
PRODUÇÃO E ENGENHARIA
EL-P
EL-P
Coprodução
Leon Kelly
Leon Kelly
Engenharia (gravação)
Kaushlesh "Garry" Purohit
Kaushlesh "Garry" Purohit
Engenharia (gravação)
Dylan Neustadter
Dylan Neustadter
Engenharia (gravação)
Carl Bespolka
Carl Bespolka
Engenharia (gravação)
Nick Hook
Nick Hook
Engenharia (gravação)
Mat Lejeune
Mat Lejeune
Engenharia (gravação)
Jonathan Lackey
Jonathan Lackey
Engenharia de gravação (assistente)
joey raia
joey raia
Engenharia (mixagem)
Joe LaPorta
Joe LaPorta
Engenharia (masterização)
Matt Sweeney
Matt Sweeney
Produção
Little Shalimar
Little Shalimar
Coprodução
Wilder Zoby
Wilder Zoby
Coprodução
Taylor Jackson
Taylor Jackson
Engenharia (gravação)

Letra

[Verse 1]
I woke up early once again, that's four days straight
I didn't wake you baby, I just watched you lay
In the radiation of the city sun
I am in love with you, it is my only grace
You know how everything can seem a little out of place?
All of my life, that's seemed to be the only normal state
So feeling normal never really meant me feeling sane
And being clear about the truth and being sane have never really been the same
I used to want to get the chance to show the world I'm smart (Ha)
Isn't that dumb? I should've focused mostly on the heart
'Cause I've seen smarter people trample life like it's an art
So being smart ain't what it used to be, that's fucking dark
You ever notice that the worst of us have all the chips?
It really kind of takes the sheen off people getting rich
Like maybe rich is not the holy ever-loving
King of nothing fuckers, know we know you're bluffin'
You are dealing with the motherfucking money money runners
[Verse 2]
It'd be a lie if I told you that I ever disdained the fortune and fame
But the presence of the pleasure never abstained me from any of the pain
When my mother transitioned to another plane I was sitting on a plane
Telling her to hold on and she tried hard but she just couldn't hang
Been two years, truth is I'll probably never be the same
Dead serious, it's a chore not to let myself go insane
It's crippling, make you wanna lean on a cup of promethazine
But my queen say she need a king not another junkie, flunky, rapper fiend
Friends tell her he could be another Malcom, he could be another Martin
She told her partna, "I need a husband more than the world need another martyr"
Made in Atlanta, Georgia where I use to ride the MARTA
With a empty .22 in the front pocket of my Braves Starter
Tryna make it out the mud as a baby father is much harder
The same children that you love and adore the court will use to break and rob ya
Circumstance woulda broke a weaker man but I put it on my momma
I'm a man of honor and the hardship made me a better money runner
[Verse 3]
This is for the never heard never even got a motherfuckerfucking word
This is for my sister Sarah, honey, I'm so sorry you were hurt
This is for the dawn, mama took a knock, had to change the locks
Dusted up and brushed off and I watched, talk about a boss
For the holders of a shred a heart even when you wanna fall apart
When you're surrounded by the fog treading water in the ice cold dark
When they got you feeling like a fox running from another pack of dogs
Put the pistol and the fist up in the air, we are there, swear to God
[Verse 4]
Black child in America, the fact that I made it's magic
Black and beautiful, the world broke my momma heart and she died an addict
God blessed me to redeem her in my thoughts, words and my actions
Satisfaction for the devil, God dammit he'll never ever have it
This is for the do-gooders that the no-gooders used and then abused
For the truth tellers tied to the whipping post left beaten battered bruised
For the ones whose body hung from a tree like a piece of strange fruit
Go hard, last words to the firing squad was "Fuck you too!"
Written by: Jaime Meline, Matt Sweeney, Michael Render, Torbitt Schwartz, Wilder Zoby, Wilder Zoby Schwartz
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