Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Wale
Wale
Вокал
Harry Fraud
Harry Fraud
Программирование
Maxo Kream
Maxo Kream
Вокал
Mike Jones
Mike Jones
Артист в сэмпле
Yella Beezy
Yella Beezy
Вокал
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Emekwanem Biosah Jr.
Emekwanem Biosah Jr.
Автор песен
Markies Conway
Markies Conway
Автор песен
Antonio Felipe Hernandez
Antonio Felipe Hernandez
Автор песен
Harry Fraud
Harry Fraud
Автор песен
Mike Jones
Mike Jones
Автор песен
Olubowale Akintimehin
Olubowale Akintimehin
Автор песен
Paul Slayton
Paul Slayton
Автор песен
Salih Williams
Salih Williams
Автор песен
Stayve Thomas
Stayve Thomas
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Kevin “No Credit” Spencer
Миксинг-инженер
Harry Fraud
Harry Fraud
Продюсер

Слова

(La música de Harry Fraud) Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters What's the sense of it all? Pimpin', powder, and pussy, tryna make pennies See niggas lie on the stand, guess hell ain't harder than prison, who knows? In the '90s, a traffic stop get you tickets, a joke Now they find you a traffic stop, get you riddled with holes We be livin' too fast, we be sippin' it slow One of my niggas was sellin' work, now he sellin' out shows I meet Jay so that's growth, pay attention, take note You over 40 and movin' work, better be by the boat Better be by the dock, better not be by your home If niggas really wan' hurt you, they gon' leave you alone 'Cause them peoples is comin' Where your loyalty, youngin'? When a rapper say, "Free my nigga," his lawyers get hungry And everybody wanna be a trap nigga 'Cause them rap trap niggas get paid And don't nobody want to be a trap-trap nigga When them badge niggas got you on tape, yeah Art imitatin' life, I got to saying lies Got these suburbanites thinkin' y'all ain't afraid to fight Right in the mirror cryin' a little, you shakin', right? Your soul is in prison and there is no visitation rights Down South slangin' music with these hustlers Keep it true to self and never sell out with these busters (no) I ain't finna tap dance, I don't give a fuck though Keep it true to self and keep it cool when niggas cutthroat Run it Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters I got the cocaine lady, white lady, by the ki' (ki') Ayy, cup full of Texas, poured by the three (three) Hopped out the Porsche, went and sold me a P (a P) Smoke a pussy nigga like I rolled me a leaf (like a leaf, nigga) All smoke, put a hole in his teeth (ayy) Boom, bop, bam, put a hole in his cheek (ayy) Nigga talkin' tough but you a hoe in the streets (ayy) Come and get knotted, freaky hoes in the sheets (ayy) Hustle like a motherfucker (oh, oh), niggas servin' Scudder butter (oh, oh) Pussy niggas undercover (oh, oh), and I ain't stutter, motherfucker (oh, oh) Hit 'em with the blocka, blocka (oh, oh), quick to serve me a clocker (oh, oh) You borderline dick-suckers (oh, oh), tryna take some pics, suckers (oh, let's go) Baby, make your leg bend, yellow bitch, a red skin In DC like a Redskin, come and give me head then My youngins popped a lead in Nigga, swing your dread then Oh, you wanna tussle? We gonna see how niggas play it then (on God) Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers (yeah) Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters (uh, uh) Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers (yeah, look) Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters (Maxo, Maxo, Maxo) Down South slangin' (huh), servin' all these customers (uh-huh) Like Bill, I keep some pills, keep a Heath cliff like Rudy Huxtable (okay) On the real, you might get killed, don't touch my chain 'cause this untouchable Big black nine on my hip, yeah, I'ma shoot, that bitch ain't cute But she still fuckable (huh) Racks on racks, move packs, sell packs at school, had packs like Lunchables (alright) Tote gats on gats, .45s and MACs, we bust our straps at constables (boom) Hundred chops, my sack, no phone with her (ayy) On Adderall but it's still functional (vroom) Still aired out at her function, though (what?) That Draco so dysfunctional Used to be robber, Igbo Naija boy, go ask Wale (uh-huh) Yellow bone on top to give me sloppy toppy as I lay (suck it) Pull up on a opp, a chopper rocker hit him while he lay (boom-boom) I spend some chips to get you killed, my Crips gon' make you Frito Lay Bangin', we don't really tussle If I can't get that thang in, then I'm not finna go clubbin' (hell nah) Every since my bro got killed, I can't trust shit, I can't trust nothin' Can't even trust my Crips because a Crip killed Nipsey Hussle (Maxo, Maxo) Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters Down South slangin', rollin' with these hustlers Tryna get rid of all you haters and you busters
Writer(s): Stayve Thomas, Olubowale Akintimehin, Rory William Quigley, Paul Michael Slayton, Antonio Felipe Hernandez, Salih Williams, Markies Deandre Conway, Emekwanem Ogugua Biosah, Michael A. Jones Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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