Vídeo de música

Créditos

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Gucci Mane
Gucci Mane
Vocals
iWeirdo
iWeirdo
Programming
Mike WiLL Made-It
Mike WiLL Made-It
Programming
Shawn Ferrari
Shawn Ferrari
Programming
Pooh Shiesty
Pooh Shiesty
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ernest Day Jr.
Ernest Day Jr.
Songwriter
Lontrell Williams
Lontrell Williams
Songwriter
Michael Williams
Michael Williams
Songwriter
Radric Delantic Davis
Radric Delantic Davis
Songwriter
iWeirdo
iWeirdo
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
iWeirdo
iWeirdo
Producer
Rayshaun Mclntosh
Rayshaun Mclntosh
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
Kori Anders
Kori Anders
Mixing Engineer
Mike WiLL Made-It
Mike WiLL Made-It
Producer
Shawn Ferrari
Shawn Ferrari
Producer

Letra

Ear Drummers (Young Rari) Mike WiLL-Mike WiLL made-it We strapped up like the Taliban, my hood somethin' like Afghanistan And I just put some cheese on his head like a Packers fan (well, damn) Shiesty, that's my Kobe Bryant, ain't no way I'm trading the man (Shiesty) Don't try me or my goons be at your house like they the cable man (wow) They say I'm a sex symbol, they say I'm a ladie's man (Huh?) Dressed up in the latest fashion, fashion show with Dapper Dan (it's Gucci) It look like I robbed a bank, so much bread, it make you faint We be everywhere you ain't, I go everywhere you can't (go) I send shots at where you think, I get millions when I blink I got birds like Arthur Blank, I just bought a purple mink Cookin' cocaine in the sink (skrrt), seen some shit that make you drink (drink) Doin' time, it make you think, got you clutchin' on your shank He said, "He gon' rob who? That's like tryin' to rob a tank" (who?) (woah) That's some shit that get you spanked (woah) They done had too much to drink (well, damn)] You just tryin' to get some rank, spill your blood out like it's paint Say you with it, but you ain't, not a sinner, you a saint (wop) I'ma make it plain and simple, send bullets at your pimples and temple (pew, pew) You deep in that water, and you don't know what you into (no) Gunners on their way, why you sayin' what you fin' to? (Huh?) We gon' make you sprint when we pull up in them rentals (go) They just left a dent, he can't run from what I sent him (no) Nigga jumpin' clique, they don't even want to befriend you (well, damn) Niggas come to kill you, and they didn't come to end you (grrah) Nowhere to retreat, now you screamin', "I surrender" (quit) Niggas ain't ridin' for you, don't want to revenge you (sad) Thought you was a lion, could've swore you was a ninja (could've swore you was a-) Heaven or Hell, can't decide where I'ma send you (ayy, let's go, let's go) T-shirt with your face is the way they gon' remember (ayy) Big blrrd, blrrd, ayy, big blrrd I'll make your favorite robber give it up I'm just chillin' with your BM, she said she wish it wasn't two of us Havin' threesomes at the gym, bad bitch galore, lettin' me line up All the opps seek for attention right after they go and hide from us In a couple months, went platinum, yup Next two years, might go diamond, huh All-black booty Draco with the wood, can't name a bitch fine as her Lil' baby ashed on my diamonds, wide-body full of zaza And gotta be braver than an Arab, he thinkin' 'bout comin' tryin' us I told Wop he could drop me, he catch me outside with my chains tucked I heard both niggas that dissed me in they songs got they ass flamed up And they better not say shit after this, I'ma come through and finish 'em My folk them tryna catch them, they cross they thumb and stick four fingers up I knew I ain't get the headshot, but the fuck you mean I grazed 'em? Huh? Swear the Lord had to be with that baby-ass lil' boy that day, he saved 'em, yup I'm King Slime, rock you to sleep, then I put a snake in your cradle I'll come get you 'fore you clap me, Shiesty put shit in the newspaper Blrrd, blrrd, big blrrd, the newspaper, yeah Every day a new hater, yeah, every day a new opp I got new drops on they block, goddamn, why all my members locked? Ayy, Big 13 don't give out passes, F-O-X, no Jamie Foxx Every day, new high speed chase, ran through state troopers and the narcs Won't ever pull over, no way, it's a gold box behind my Glock, blrrd, blrrd, blrrd Hoe was talkin' 'bout send her a jet, sent back a one-way flight with Spirit Yeah, I be rappin', but still'll get in the backseat without no jewelry Lay in your yard, creep like a spy, move where you can't see or can't hear me I said, "Ain't no runnin' from that fire, know I'm comin' Them nigga fear me", blrrd, blrrd Ayy, two Dracs on the lap, four glizzies, one MAC In the CTS5-V four deep, push up right now, everybody gettin' whacked Throw the lob up to Wop like Kobe and Shaq Word around town, they be takin' your sack Ayy, F&N choppers, and Glocks when I move Don't come around with them jammin'-ass ProMags Ayy, pour up a pint, I ain't lettin' it last Fuck champagne, but I might drink it out the glass Fuck champagne, but I might drink it out the glass
Writer(s): Radric Delantic Davis, Michael Len Williams, Lontrell Dennell Jr. Williams, Diaaron Renaul Riggins, Shawn Ferrari Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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