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1997 DIANA - BROCKHAMPTON
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Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
BROCKHAMPTON
BROCKHAMPTON
Исполнитель
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Ian Simpson
Ian Simpson
Композитор
Matt Champion
Matt Champion
Композитор
Romil Hemnani
Romil Hemnani
Композитор
Dominique Simpson
Dominique Simpson
Композитор
Russell Boring
Russell Boring
Композитор
Ciarán McDonald
Ciarán McDonald
Композитор
Jabari Manwarring
Jabari Manwarring
Композитор
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Romil Hemnani
Romil Hemnani
Продюсер
Kevin Abstract
Kevin Abstract
Продюсер
Bearface
Bearface
Продюсер
Russell Boring
Russell Boring
Миксинг-инженер
Jabari Manwarring
Jabari Manwarring
Продюсер
Vlado Meller
Vlado Meller
Мастеринг-инженер

Слова

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six Five, four, three, two, one, yay! Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more, more Kiss the shoulder, hop in the Corolla These bitches talkin' shit like the bottom of porta-potties Bright ass yellow teeth, you a shit talker, gossip Legs movin' like a salsa dancer Drunk, fallin' out ya car like a flaccid dick Aww, man, god damn, what the fuck wrong with ya? Say it to my face, pussy ass boy Need a Altoid for your hot breath, life a hot mess Pop your biceps, cue the roid rage I think I got like five more albums inside my mind This that shit, that do or die, make your grandmama cry Keep some baggy jeans on me, keep a Billie Jean on me Got that New Orleans on me, smellin' like a queen to ya Cu–cu–cucumber lemonade, I need somethin' fresh today Barber make the texture fade, actin' out like it's charades Strawberry sweater fleece, baby, give me somethin' sweet We don't gotta be discreet, moonwalkin' between the seats Hit on that beat and then stop (Ahh!) Hop on that booty like who the hell cutie Like I don't know cootie, my momma ain't raise no bitch ass Ain't no kiss ass, ain't no– Get the fuck out of my face now Get the fuck out of my way now You are so far off my level, stop! In the barber shop with my niggas, ay I ain't never soft for my nigga, ay I ain't never copy no nigga, ay So quit talkin', bitch nigga, (Quit yo' talkin', bitch) ay Ay, I wanna buy a Jeep, ay, that's my energy Trilogy, that's history, Southside, baby, rest in peace! Uh, lordy, lordy, testify, yeah Got explosives in my mind, yeah Search for feelin's I can't find, yeah I'm a ghost because I grind, yeah Made a deal with Father Time, yeah Told me "Find a way to shine", yeah I can make you live forever All you gotta do is dance until you die, yeah Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more Niggas talk shit, talk a whole lot of shit Need to stop talkin' shit and give us more, more, more Ten, nine, eight, seven, six Five, four, three, two, one, yay!
Writer(s): Russell Evan Boring, Clifford Simpson, Jabari Manwarring, Dominique Simpson, Romil Hemnani, Matthew Garrett Champion, Ciaran Mcdonald Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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