Видео

Big Boi ft. Adam Levine - Mic Jack [Official Music Video]
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Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Big Boi
Big Boi
Вокал
Adam Levine
Adam Levine
Вокал
Sleepy Brown
Sleepy Brown
Бэк-вокал
Scar
Scar
Вокал
DJ Khalil
DJ Khalil
Программирование
Miss CC LaFlor
Miss CC LaFlor
Бэк-вокал
Tayla Parx
Tayla Parx
Вокал
DJ Cutmaster Swiff
DJ Cutmaster Swiff
Скретч
Ray Murray
Ray Murray
Синтезатор
Dave Robbins
Dave Robbins
Клавишные инструменты
DJ Dahi
DJ Dahi
Программирование
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Terrence Smith
Terrence Smith
Автор песен
Dacoury Natche
Dacoury Natche
Автор песен
Antwan Patton
Antwan Patton
Автор песен
Khalil Abdul‐Rahman
Автор песен
Patrick L Brown
Patrick L Brown
Автор песен
Taylor Monet Parks
Taylor Monet Parks
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Dave Kutch
Dave Kutch
Мастеринг-инженер
DJ Khalil
DJ Khalil
Продюсер
Michael Brauer
Michael Brauer
Миксинг-инженер
Chris Carmouche
Chris Carmouche
Инженер звукозаписи
Brandon Wood
Brandon Wood
Ассистент инженера
Daniela Rivera
Daniela Rivera
Ассистент инженера
Delfino Mack
Delfino Mack
Ассистент инженера
Noah Passovoy
Noah Passovoy
Инженер
Eric Eylands
Eric Eylands
Ассистент инженера
Steve Vealey
Steve Vealey
Ассистент инженера
DJ Dahi
DJ Dahi
Продюсер
Renegade El Rey
Renegade El Rey
Инженер звукозаписи

Слова

Niggas still ain't fuckin' with Hollywood Court 'Cause they fuckin' wit' ya boi like the Hollywood dough Everything big, no comin' up short Jack the buzzer beater up, all net, half court The game winning shot, your name sayin', not That same skinny thot you got, she be in and out She never spit it out either, we call her Poke-mouth Big mouth bad, start to smash that ass I build a bear before I build a bitch I take her to the mall and fill her with the sugar dick With the same lips give a nigga sugar whits Give me brain, so intelligent with plenty sense I took her innocence, yeah she was turnt out And by the time I gave her back she was burnt out Like the tires on the Huracan, you ain't good Antwan Or better yet, stay great, we stay puttin' on You're hotter than July (super hot) Super colder than December (so cold) You got me dancin' The dancefloor tells no lies Give them something to remember You got me dancin' Please don't stop movin' your feet While the music's hot on that ecstacy We can dance all night, till we both get weak Come on, come on Stayin' fresh that's the gameplan Out the oven cause we never microwavin' We break it up like the smile of Michael Strahan And keep shinin' like the glove on Michael J hand I do not play man, sure I'll eat your ass up quick I'm on that boss rap shit, they on that toss salad Old chick, I sees ya nigga and I delete her I used to have a bench full of bitches but didn't need 'em But still fill arenas and killin' the coliseum ATLiens, they on top of ya human beings From the mothership, I'm on some other shit Lowkey like the blow soul back in '86 But we don't sell dope, we pimp ink pens To provoke the folks and keep 'em thinkin' What is you drinkin', or better yet Do you really know the meaning of life or are you sleeping You're hotter than July (super hot) Super colder than December (so cold) You got me dancin' The dancefloor tells no lies Give them something to remember You got me dancin' You're hotter than July (super hot) Super colder than December (so cold) You got me dancin' The dancefloor tells no lies Give them something to remember You got me dancin' Please don't stop movin' your feet (you got me dancin') We can dance all night, till we both get weak, come on (You got me dancin') Morning, we don't stop till the morning We don't stop, keep it going We gonna see it through And the rest is up to you
Writer(s): Khalil Abdul-rahman, Patrick Leroy Brown, Antwan Patton, Terrence W. Smith, Taylor Parks, Dacoury Natche Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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