Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lil Keed
Lil Keed
Vocals
Young Thug
Young Thug
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jeffery Williams
Jeffery Williams
Lyrics
Raqhid Render
Raqhid Render
Lyrics
Timothy Jordan Jenks
Timothy Jordan Jenks
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Alex Tumay
Alex Tumay
Mixing Engineer
Angad 'Bainz' Bains
Angad 'Bainz' Bains
Recording Engineer
Joe LaPorta
Joe LaPorta
Mastering Engineer
Pi’erre Bourne
Pi’erre Bourne
Producer

Lyrics

Yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Woo They think they all fly (yeah), we a different fly (yeah) Yeah, we private flight it (yeah), no need for autopilot (yeah) Know we get the highest (yeah), know y'all all dyin' (yeah) Lift the doors up (yeah), my wrist it froze up (yeah) My neck get colder (yeah), thought I told ya (yeah) We in the fast lane (yeah) In a Hellcat (yeah), or in a Mulsanne (yeah) If he bounce back (yeah), a hundred shots ring (yeah) Ain't got no dogtag (yeah), how you gangbang? (Yeah) He not 'bout that (yeah), he ain't insane (yeah) Give him 30 shots (yeah), shoot him Curry range (yeah) Finger flooded (yeah), cost more than Audi rings (yeah) Yeah, we bossy (yeah), shit be saucy (yeah) Cosey You said you want a wedding ring, that's when you lost me (lost me) Go big on big, I'm irritated with your mouthpiece I drove a G63 Benz to the nosebleeds (skrrt) Yeah, I'm her boss, see, see I'm so flossy Lil' mama said she want a Benz with the Rolls seats (want a Benz) I took a helicopter down to the show freak I told her private jet, we goin' shoppin' overseas I can go brazy like a shotta, ayy (brazy like a) I got some masons on the Southside, ayy (I got some masons on the South) I'm servin' chicken, but not Popeyes, ayy (I'm servin' chicken, but not Pop') Pay the tuition, not a shotta, ayy (pay the tuition, not a shotta) I told lil' mama, "Bitch, it's our time," ayy (our time) We got the juice, we got the Wi-Fi, ayy (Wi-Fi) We fuckin' on top our Carter, hey I just might pass her to my brothers, hey (just might pass her to my brothers) Hundred bands on a seat (hundred) How the fuck I make a half a million in a week? (How? How? How?) Yeah, shawty suck me out my sleep I don't know just how the hell I woke up with a freak (How? How?) Goddamn, I got millions with no piece (damn) Different bustdown every fuckin' day of the week (fuckin' day of the week) Livin' easy breezy, we fuck on designer sheets (woo) I had me some Henny with my Act', now I'm deceased (I'm deceased, nigga) Million dollar nig', whip a Maybach out of town (skrrt, skrrt) Patek worth a mink, up in the Benz right now (skrrt, skrrt) Keep designer kicks on my bitch all the time (skrrt, skrrt) Paris Hilton mansion in the hills, I see stars (skrrt, skrrt) Abercrombie birds with the doves, we get money (skrrt, skrrt) Lambo' hit the curb, when it dark, it look sunny (skrrt, skrrt) I put neon lights in the penthouse for my mommy (skrrt, skrrt) Wake up, take a piss, drink a seal every morning Spendin' all these goddamn funds I just put some slimes and some bands on your son Choker shackles outshine the goddamn sun John Wick shooters, we not scared of James Bond (woo) Talkin' game to get out her panties Different Chanel, different occasions I got hood ratchet shit and she Asian Whippin' slime Lam' truck, it's Caucasian Y'all cat, Tigger See y'all damn whiskers Her ass soft as pillows Give her nut like brittle Louis duffle bag, F&N and bands in it Yeah, I wore it, left the tag on my expensive drip She not talkin' bad, I go pimp and pop them lips Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah Oh, oh, oh
Writer(s): Jordan Jenks, Jeffery Lamar Williams, Raqhid Render Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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