Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs
Vocals
Madlib
Madlib
Programming
The Heliocentrics
The Heliocentrics
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Otis Jackson
Otis Jackson
Songwriter
Malcolm Catto
Malcolm Catto
Songwriter
Jake Ferguson
Jake Ferguson
Songwriter
Mike Burnham
Mike Burnham
Songwriter
Fredrick Tipton
Fredrick Tipton
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs
Producer
Madlib
Madlib
Producer
Ben "Lambo" Lambert
Ben "Lambo" Lambert
Producer
Eothen Alapatt
Eothen Alapatt
Producer
Sidney "Speakerbomb" Miller
Sidney "Speakerbomb" Miller
Recording Engineer
Rich Gains
Rich Gains
Recording Engineer
Fabian Hummel
Fabian Hummel
Recording Engineer
Mario Caldato Jr
Mario Caldato Jr
Mixing Engineer
Dave Cooley
Dave Cooley
Mastering Engineer
Eric Anthony Sandoval
Eric Anthony Sandoval
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Smooth, nigga, you know what I'm sayin'? Too motherfuckin' smooth, bitch, yeah Bald head, head like a baby, a baby ass, bitch, yeah Yeah, Kane Here to motherfuckin' remain, yeah Uh, bitch nigga It's still fuck police, too Yeah, nigga, yeah Rest in peace Terrence Crutcher, motherfuck Betty Shelby (Fuck that bitch) I never wish death but bitch, find a hollow tip and inhale it When Taz drove off with two kilos, I told him we should mail it And now we gone up the river, they seen my nigga sellin' Nigga killed the police in Dallas, that's probably fake news While they knock 'em off with robotics, R2D2's Everything on me icy, Snow White, it's just like I skiied through I sit back in the trap with them rats and I watch the cheese move Shakin all these nutso niggas off the roof, off the record Ball without a motherfuckin' ball like I was Tommy Sheppard Life a bachelor party, we with them strippers on O's and X's I can't hold no grudges, my hands is too busy catching blessings, yeah Yeah, and I been struggling my whole life, yeah I pour it up and get my soul right East side boy, my mama was the mail lady (Yeah) Brother and my sister got degrees but I got the yayo, baby (Yeah) Had to beat my case, I can't turn Irie to a jail baby Bitch, I weigh that shit up in my crib, I think your scale shady Pass it off and drop it like Stockton, bitch, I facilitate Fucked some niggas off but I also done set some niggas straight Way back when we had rows and Lincolns is all a nigga ate And every day I fuck up a bulletproof glass chicken plate, uh Empty stomach, broken heart, and empty pocket Three things that occur to show you if you and your niggas solid Know that they won't prosper but the devil still gon' form the weapon I can't hold no grudges, my hands is too busy catching blessings, yeah (Blessings, blessings) Yeah, and I been struggling my whole life, yeah Yeah, I pour it up and get my soul right, yeah 'Cause I been struggling my whole life, yeah So I broke it down and it was all white, yeah Mama always told me it'd be alright, yeah I still broke it down and it was all white, yeah I pray the Lord'll get my soul right, yeah I still pray to Lord'll get my soul right
Writer(s): Fredrick Jamel Tipton, Otis Lee Jackson Jr., Robert James Bearns, Ron Dexter Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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