Créditos
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ja’el James Johnson
Songwriter
Letra
J3
What
J3
Huh
J3
STP
What dat mean
I got sum to prove
Da streets taught me how to Move
(How to move)
Everybody gotta sum to prove
(Sum to prove)
These niggas ain't real dats true
(Dats true)
My Jeans $250 they true
(Religion)
My killas don't leave a clue
(Nughuh)
Bankroll all 100s they blue
(They new)
I can put you on da news
(Cleveland 5)
Dis a srt 392
(Big Hemi)
Peep da Versace shoes
(I'm drippin)
Trillions is what I pursue
(Gotta go get it)
Ball like LeBron age 22
(Young goat)
I'm 22 like polo g
(Young goat)
Yo girl in love wid me
(She obsessed)
I'm da one she want to see
(She don't fuck witchu)
I'm who she want to please
You walked in
Caught her on her knees
(She giving me top)
Niggas hate for no reason
(No reason)
Kick doe my favorite season
(Kick yo doe)
My kicks they European
(They from Italy)
My producer from Germany
(Shoutout Spancy)
I got money currency
(I'm wealthy)
I'm not broke dats a certainty
(I'm not broke)
But Yo death I can guarantee
(300)
By my killa wid a felony
(He don't play)
Can't let you get ahead me
(Hell nah)
Especially if you my enemy
(You gon get murk)
Shoot you in da head like Kennedy
(JFK)
I'm wid da gang we drink Hennessy
(Pour up)
I got killas in Tennessee
(Shoutout Terry)
You know They gon kill fa me
(Kill fa me)
All eyes on me I feel like pac
(Tupac)
These hoes birds they like to Flock
(Yeah they flock)
Y'all ain't street
Don't know bout da block
You ain't Gangsta
You Never held a Glock
You ain't gon shoot shit
If you see da opps
When we see em
We shoot up da block
(Baw)
We gon shoot up da block
(Baw)
We gon make bodies drop
(Baw)
We gon knock off his top
(Baw)
We gon knock off his block
(Baw)
ARs, Dracos, and Glocks
After dat first kill I can't stop
(I can't stop)
It rain blood in my city
It don't stop
Remember them late nights
Plotting on da opps
(Plotting on da opps)
If I catch em walking
I'm sending out shots
(Boom boom boom boom)
I'm not Roddy rich
My stick not in a box
I'm da type to shoot at da cops
(Fuck 12)
It's free smoke I'm handing out Shots
(Bitch)
I'm Rolling up opps
I'm smoking the dead
He was running his mouth
Got shot in da head
Goofy nigga
Shoulda watched what he said
His T was all white
But I turned it red
I looked in his eyes
That Nigga was scared
He wasn't Gangsta
He was tryna pretend
Don't Play wid me
You gon meet yo end
Yo Bitch came over
Got fucked with her friend
If I fuck her once
I can fuck her again
200K I can spend on Benz
2021 got locked in da pen
I ain't neva
Goin thru dat again
My city grimey
Turn boys into man
Opps see me
Run quick as they can
Cuz I pop opps
Just like a xan
I was raised in Cleveland
We call it the Land
It's no love in da city
No helping hand
Niggas turn rats
When they get on the stand
Don't say you a shooter
And yo gun jammed
I'm copping pounds
And You copping grams
If you a bad bitch
Follow me on da gram
It's J3thagod
(Bitch)
Writer(s): Ja’el Johnson
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