Видео

В составе

Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Вокал
Fivio Foreign
Fivio Foreign
Вокал
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Oliver Moldan
Oliver Moldan
Композитор
Tommy Lee James
Tommy Lee James
Автор песен
Bryon Potts
Bryon Potts
Автор песен
Ferdinand Media
Ferdinand Media
Автор песен
Devin Guisande
Devin Guisande
Композитор
Maxie Lee Ryles III
Maxie Lee Ryles III
Автор песен
Kyle Guisande
Kyle Guisande
Автор песен
Rudi Dittmann
Rudi Dittmann
Композитор
Bryson Potts
Bryson Potts
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Сопродюсер
Mike Seaberg
Mike Seaberg
Миксинг-инженер
Tiernan Cranny
Tiernan Cranny
Мастеринг-инженер
Jaycen Joshua
Jaycen Joshua
Миксинг-инженер
Madenka
Madenka
Продюсер
Aaron Mattes
Aaron Mattes
Инженер звукозаписи
DJ Riggins
DJ Riggins
Ассистент инженера
Jacob Richards
Jacob Richards
Ассистент инженера
Rachel Blum
Rachel Blum
Ассистент инженера

Слова

Ayy, MADENKA, I think that's the one, you know Na, na, na, na Na, na, na Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Niggas'll kill you for what you believe in I bought a new .40 for no reason It's getting cold, so it's coming to season He caught a body, he comin' through cheesin' We ain't with none of the crying and grieving You know that my shooters is dying to see 'em Niggas can't find him he hidin' we seekin' He in the city he dying this weekend I took a percocet, it keep me calm None of them niggas is doing me harm None of my bitches is doing me wrong I keep a smile, I ain't losing my charm I know the feds listen to this music So I never say what I do in these songs He send the addy, we pull up, he gone Up close, so I ain't shotting from long Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Ayy, duffel bag for the money, what the business is? All across the world, servin' different citizens I'ma make shit stretch 'til the end of end On my knees every night, but I'ma sin again Sorry Lord, can't say I don't know better (I don't know better) Big stepper, 'til my toes start hurtin' ('til my toes start hurtin') Get him killed, then write him a murder letter Few subliminals in my verses Big chain on my neck finna break my neck Need a brace for my neck, mm-hmm Hoe brain with the best, I ain't feeling her sex So her best friend next, mhmm (let's do it) Call collect to charter jets Then billboard charts happen next (we go) Got the big flex on my ex Hold it over her head 'till she meet her death (hoe hurtin') Declined my calls and missed my text I know them hoes regret I'm numb on a hoe, I ain't feelin' 'her He could be with the kid we gon' kill him (we gon' get em) Get the drop, then you know I'm a sinner (brrt) No tags on the whip, no rentals, ayy (grr) Hop out, lemme see the feet work, nigga We ain't finna shoot out no window (grr, grr) Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Dope (dope, dope) Money (money, money) Green (green, green) Na, na, na, na Cold (cold) (uh, yeah) Money (money) (uh, yuh) Clean it Na, na, na Dope Money Green, na, na, na Mm, na, na Na, na, mm, na, na Dope, mm, na, money, green, na, na
Writer(s): Maxie Lee Ryles Iii, Ferdinand Media, Bryon Potts Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out