Видео

Joey Bada$$ - Rockabye Baby (feat. ScHoolboy Q) (Lyrics)
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Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Joey Bada$$
Joey Bada$$
Вокал
ScHoolboy Q
ScHoolboy Q
Вокал
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Che Jessamy
Che Jessamy
Автор песен
Jo-Vaughn Virginie
Jo-Vaughn Virginie
Автор песен
Quincy Hanley
Quincy Hanley
Автор песен
Adam Pallin
Adam Pallin
Автор песен
Janko Nilovic
Janko Nilovic
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
1-900
1-900
Продюсер
Chuck Strangers
Chuck Strangers
Продюсер
John Gratton
John Gratton
Ассистент инженера
Jordon Silva
Jordon Silva
Ассистент миксинг-инженера
Nastee
Nastee
Инженер звукозаписи
Rob Kinelski
Rob Kinelski
Миксинг-инженер
Tatsuya Sato
Tatsuya Sato
Мастеринг-инженер

Слова

Yeah, yeah I said niggas pop shit all the time Me I don't trip 'cause they know I'm never lyin' Lookin' between the lines Feel like Ali in his prime As-Salaam-Alaikum, alaikum salaam Peace to my Slimes, and peace to my Crips Neighborhood police and they always on the shift Protect my Bloods, look out for my cuz When it's all said and done, we be the realest there was Who else if just not us? If you 'bout this revolution, please stand up We ain't got no one to trust Time is running up, feel the burn in my gut And if you got the guts, scream, "Fuck Donald Trump" We don't give a fuck, never had one to give Never will forget, probably never will forgive Uh, I guess that's just how it is And they still won't let the Black man live Feel the energy surge through my veins when I flow Mentally, I can never be controlled No sympathy for foes, my enemies exposed Will they remember me when I'm gone? I say rockabye, rockabye, rockabye baby Shotta boy, shotta boy, shotta go crazy Me nuh play games, so please don't play me Look at what they made me I'm part of the reason they still Crippin' out in Brooklyn Before I was an artist I would book 'em, mm Push ya shit back while on them front line, nigga, ya lunch time I'm by them stop sign, you love that wi-fi On mamas for them dirty dollars, brains on collars Park the car around the corner, I'll be there in a second The murder weapon on me, fuck if this bitch start flamin' The cops patrollin', get that punk ass American flag ceremony Aww, damn am I going too far? Give you some flavor to borrow Bitch yeah it came with the car It's off-white, leveled the hard You ball, might come with a charge Your kids don't know you no more Your girl's draws stay on the floor No phone call accepted in weeks Your son picked up on your beef, real shit From gettin' lynched in field into ownin' buildings Getting millions, influencin' white children And oddly we still ain't even Still a small percentage of blacks that's eating Same routines, the same dope fiends Them nightmare dreams, forever murder season Bad intentions to them picket fences They gave us guns but won't hire us, nigga? So we killin' senseless Homies murked on the bus benches Retaliation 'cause his mama cryin' Kept it gangsta 'til I modify 'em Rockabye, rockabye Feel the energy surge through my veins when I flow Mentally, I can never be controlled No sympathy for foes, my enemies exposed Will they remember me when I'm gone? I say rockabye, rockabye, rockabye baby Shotta boy, shotta boy, shotta go crazy Me nuh play games, so please don't play me Look at what they made me
Writer(s): Jo Virginie, Janko Nilovic, Quincy Hanley, Jacob Bowman, Adam Pallin, Che Jessamy Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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