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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Gunna
Gunna
Vocals
Lil Durk
Lil Durk
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Durk Banks
Durk Banks
Songwriter
Sergio Kitchens
Sergio Kitchens
Songwriter
Tony Son
Tony Son
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Richie Souf
Richie Souf
Producer

Lyrics

It ain't a facade, I spent some racks on my shoes I been goin' hard, I paid all cash for my jewels I walked in Hermes, bought a bag for my boo I get them blue hundreds, spread them out like a wound Can't get you off my mind, I might die about you My outfit cost a dime, can't control how I move The praises to the god, don't believe in voodoo 'Cause when you at the top they'll tell lies about you Tell everything but the truth, get nothin' but love from my crew I guess they hate what you do, pull up in coupes with no roofs You caught me in a good mood, can't put a spike in my groove Got more these designer shoes (Mhmm) I drip, I need an award I built that way for that Porsche I think I'm on a high horse YSL, got none' but Hi-Tunes, we kill 'em off, no remorse I gotta win, I can't lose, I'm tryna feed all my boys Huh, I paid my dues to these hoes I got that flame to the torch Young Gunna ball with no court I hit that trap and quit sports, I give all thanks to the lord I hit that yo and record, they get that drip from your boy, mmh It ain't a facade, I spent some racks on my shoes I been goin' hard, I paid all cash for my jewels I walked in Hermes, bought a bag for my boo I get them blue hundreds, spread them out like a wound Can't get you off my mind, I might die about you My outfit cost a dime, can't control how I move The praises to the god, don't believe in voodoo 'Cause when you at the top they'll tell lies about you Man bag, guns in 'em Track pants, run in 'em Gorilla blue, Godzilla We don't fuck with no nigga How you want that Saint Laurent bag? You ain't suckin' no dick My lil LA bitch got jetlag, she off that coke shit Fuck that shit, come on shawty Fuck that Ghost, where the Rari? None of my niggas want to party Them young niggas want to catch a body We ain't wifing no Chiraq thots Threesome, them my type of thots Vegas bitch tried to sell me pussy Tell that ho like hell no Main homie's bitch tried to fuck me And she told me he don't know If they out they won't say shit 'Cause he know he gon' get peter-rolled And we about the violence, my young niggas be wildin' Your baby mama be trifling, yeah yeah It ain't a facade, I spent some racks on my shoes I been goin' hard, I paid all cash for my jewels I walked in Hermes, bought a bag for my boo I get them blue hundreds, spread them out like a wound Can't get you off my mind, I might die about you My outfit cost a dime, can't control how I move The praises to the god, don't believe in voodoo 'Cause when you at the top they'll tell lies about you
Writer(s): Durk D. Banks, Tony T Son, Sergio Giavanni Kitchens Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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