Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Vince Staples
Vince Staples
Вокал
Mustard
Mustard
Программирование
Corey Henry
Corey Henry
Клавишные инструменты
Nick Lee
Nick Lee
Валторна
Evelyn "Champagne" King
Evelyn "Champagne" King
Артист в сэмпле
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Vince Staples
Vince Staples
Автор песен
Lewis Hughes
Lewis Hughes
Автор песен
Dexter Wansel
Dexter Wansel
Автор песен
Dijon McFarlane
Dijon McFarlane
Автор песен
Jacob Wilkinson-Smith
Jacob Wilkinson-Smith
Автор песен
Nicholas Audino
Nicholas Audino
Автор песен
Theodore Life
Theodore Life
Автор песен
Nick Lee
Nick Lee
Аранжировщик
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Mustard
Mustard
Продюсер
Lewis Hughes
Lewis Hughes
Продюсер
My Best Friend Jacob
My Best Friend Jacob
Продюсер
Nick "Unknown Nick" Audino
Nick "Unknown Nick" Audino
Продюсер
Matt Wolach
Matt Wolach
Ассистент миксинг-инженера
Hayden Duncan
Hayden Duncan
Ассистент инженера звукозаписи
Kenny Beats
Kenny Beats
Инженер звукозаписи
David Pizzimenti
David Pizzimenti
Ассистент инженера звукозаписи
Chris Gehringer
Chris Gehringer
Мастеринг-инженер
Will Quinnell
Will Quinnell
Ассистент мастеринг-инженера
Tyler Page
Tyler Page
Инженер звукозаписи

Слова

Mustard on the beat, ho Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic? Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic Can you imagine? Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it? If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em And tell the police I don't know what happened If I gave a fuck about a citch, I'd always be broke I'd never get to pull up in a Benz with my locs Growin' up, we was poor, so we hopped off that porch With a gun, tryna blow, tryna kick down your door But that's old news, spreading love now Sick of police lights, sick of gun sounds Niggas' bread ain't up, so they come foul But it's handshakes, hugs when I come 'round, wow Funny style, hate to see a nigga smilin' Hundred miles and runnin' through the public housin' Movin' mountains, fuck who I was stumpin' down with Gunnin' down shit, sittin' in the back of Crown Vics So janky, know them niggas down the street still hate me Hope lil' baby know that she can't play me Dumb ho', love cost but the game free, dumb ho' Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic? Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic Can you imagine? Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it? If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em And tell the police I don't know what happened Crip and blood shit That's the only thing I ever been in love with So I hope he know we never goin' public Hands full, so I can't hold grudges, nah I be thuggin', jumpin' out the backseat bustin' Everybody we be beefin' with be sayin' that they bleedin' shit But see us and they don't do nothin' Aw, put it on the dead locs They know I been 'bout it-'bout it since the get-go If I hit the corner clickin', better get low You ain't with it nigga, what you from the set for? Huh? I just wanna be successful You won't never ever see me with my head low My momma met my daddy, then they had me in the Ghetto Handed me a .38 and told me I was special (yes I am), norf Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic? Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic Can you imagine? Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it? If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em And tell the police I don't know what happened Feeling like I'm floating to the ceiling, is it magic? Baby, tell me why you disappearin', this is magic I won't ever tell 'em how I did it, it was magic Can you imagine? Money in the mattress, love the way I stack it I can make it rain blue hundreds, can you catch it? If somebody come through bluffin', I'ma blast 'em And tell the police I don't know what happened See, when you come from nothing Make it into something, I call that luck But when you come from where we come from I call that magic When you get two niggas From different sides of the city to do something like this I guess you could call that magic Getting off of Section 8, welfare Now it's Rolls-Royce's, private jets, that's magic Let me know what's magic to you, yeah
Writer(s): Vince Staples, Dijon Mcfarlane, Lewis Beresford Hughes, Nicholas Valentino Audino, Dexter Wansel, Jacob Wilkinson-smith, Theodore Life Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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