Music Video

9-24-7000 (feat. Rick Ross) [Official Audio]
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Action Bronson
Action Bronson
Vocals
Harry Fraud
Harry Fraud
Programming
Rick Ross
Rick Ross
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Eddie Lundon
Eddie Lundon
Songwriter
Gary Daly
Gary Daly
Songwriter
Gary Johnson
Gary Johnson
Songwriter
Rory William Quigley
Rory William Quigley
Songwriter
Ariyan Arslani
Ariyan Arslani
Songwriter
William Leonard Roberts II
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Antoine Rotondo
Antoine Rotondo
Mastering Engineer
Dimitri Condax
Dimitri Condax
Mastering Engineer
Harry Fraud
Harry Fraud
Producer
Daniel Rowland
Daniel Rowland
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Shit, sweep you off your feet Like Ryu in the corner Shit, man, haha Smooth, man I'm a fuckin' smooth mover, uh Yo, if I didn't say it's me, you would probably think it's Sting My fish go bling, what, this old thing? I never switch up, my brother need a biscuit Then I'm gripped up, hangin' off my shoulder, fuck the bullshit November rain came the same day My daughter taught me how to do the Nae Nae to Calle 13 Only compare me to Kevin Spacey Or Rubén Blades, the blunt fat like two Kamalas Do a world tour and scoop some dollars Come home and hit the pool hall I'm fishbowlin' new Impalas Two Russian twins suck while I drive fast It's me, man I'm the one that takes the wolf head, wears it on my own head Wisdom from the old heads, you ain't gettin' no head You ain't gettin' no bread, you ain't gettin' no shows You ain't gettin' no dough, you ain't gettin' no hoes Dawg, I hit the best of 'em, motherfuck the rest of 'em Well, now I'm nestled in the Tesla eatin' pretzels, huh? I should probably put a wetsuit on I'll be right back... Young Renzel, line two Young A.B., I got this you dig? Yeah, yo (Maybach music) I love my rude bitches, end up as new bitches Skippin' school bitches, cookin' me food bitches All my niggas down, we lookin' like Fu-Schnickens Got a few tickets for bitches who truly digged us College dormitories, fill 'em with smooth lyrics Air Max 95s, grey sweats, true menace Known as a Jonas, complex on the phoner Simple individual, confident in the Lotus Foreign ambitions, they go with my last wishes As I open my eyes, surprised by seven figures Baking soda required, decided drug dealin' Residents is divided amongst the feds and children Let him keep totin' drugs if he willin' to plead guilty The star state witness, they'll hit you up for that selfie Dro can only help me, Backwood and I'm healthy I'm the label owner, I'm the only one can shelf me Biggest (Maybach music) boss Why are we letting things on the outside of our physical penetrate our soul, penetrate our nuanced wiring system, our cerebral cortex, okay? What really is a thought? Can you control when a thought arrives outside of the brain? Can you or can't you? Is free will a real thing or is it the philosophy of free will? Seekin' scripture, haha
Writer(s): William Roberts, Rory William Quigley, Ariyan Arslani, Gary Johnson, Eddie London, Gary Daly Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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