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ALBUMLONG.LIVE.A$AP (Deluxe Edition)A$AP Rocky
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
A$AP Rocky
Vocals
Imogen Heap
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rakim Mayers
Songwriter
Clarence Connor
Songwriter
Dayquan Davis
Songwriter
Solomon Davis
Songwriter
Imogen Heap
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Amsterdam
Producer
Emile Haynie
Producer
Daniel Lynas
Recording Engineer
MIKE DEAN
Mixing Engineer
Stuart Innis
Assistant Engineer
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Ten gold chains, wood grain, propane
Sell the whole thang from the cellphone rang
I'm the dope mane, bitches sniffing cocaine
All my young niggas know that they could always
Call me, call me, call me (always, always)
Call me, call me, call me (always, always)
Call me, call me, call me (always, always)
Call me, call me, call me
(If you see me trouble, bitch)
They call me young drug dealer, they call me young thug nigga
24 karats my slugs glitter, 24 years old worth a couple million
Shouts out to my cuz niggas, finna let it fly for my blood niggas
Middle finger up to you fuck niggas, if you a trill nigga, then fuck with us
Nigga dash like a speed of a bullet
With a pistol on him prolly wouldn't even pull it
Heart made of pudding mean mugging with a hoodie like what's goodie
Trying to be the mothafucka that you couldn't knowing you
Down to let it fly when I shouldn't
All my young niggas they gon' rep it to the fullest
Tell a fuck nigga "be you," fuck tough be cool
All the young niggas in my crew, they down to let it fly
For a nigga like me, young nigga like me (They let it fly)
For a nigga like me, young nigga like me (They let it fly)
For a nigga like me, young nigga like me (They let it fly)
For a nigga like me, jiggy young nigga like me (Flex!)
Ten gold chains, wood grain, propane
Sell the whole thang from the cellphone rang
Ten gold chains, wood grain, propane
Sell the whole thang from the cellphone rang
Niggas got rips in they jeans man I started that
Hood by air man I started that
Niggas claim they the God of black
Well your name is purple I'm the God of that
Gave you my back nigga pardon that
Fuck that shit I brought mobbing back
I brought robbin' back, I brought the Garden back
Motherfuck black land I brought Harlem back
Rolling in my Benzo, hoes on the curb a couple of friends
Rolling down my window, yo what's the word, fuck it get in
Ride round with these bimbos, she give head to my kin folk
Shout outs my connect though, keep a watch out for them Winslows
Cause the boys gon' creep, D-boys gon' serve
Hoes gone skeet and the V gone swerve
I'mma get by while the world gon' turn
I'mma get mine like you gon' get yours
Niggas do the least do when the piece got nerve
Niggas in the streets want heat, get burned
Tell a nigga "be you," fuck tough be cool
Couple young niggas down with my crew who be done and let it fly
For a nigga like me, young nigga like me (They let it fly)
For a nigga like me, young nigga like me (They let it fly)
For a nigga like me, young nigga like me (They let it fly)
For a nigga like me, jiggy young nigga like me (Flex!)
Ten gold chains, wood grain, propane
Sell the whole thang from the cellphone rang
Ten gold chains, wood grain, propane
Sell the whole thang from the cellphone rang
Ten gold chains, wood grain, propane
Sell the whole thang from the cellphone rang
Ten gold chains, wood grain, propane
Sell the whole thang from the cellphone rang
Writer(s): Imogen Jennifer Heap, Clarence Ian Connor, Rakim Mayers, Solomon Davis, Dayquan Davis
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