Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
YFN Lucci
YFN Lucci
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Marcus Murray
Marcus Murray
Songwriter
Rayshawn Lamar Bennett
Rayshawn Lamar Bennett
Songwriter
Zachary D. Thomas
Zachary D. Thomas
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
John Horesco
John Horesco
Mastering Engineer
Keith Dawson
Keith Dawson
Mixing Engineer
Budda Beats
Budda Beats
Producer
DJ Lavish Lee
DJ Lavish Lee
Producer

Lyrics

Real nigga radio (DJ Lavish Lee) The good thing about bein' counted out and left for dead (it's Budda Beats) They never see you comin' Regardless of what you goin' through, young brother Remember, bad days always a promise That better days is around the corner I got some niggas doin' time, got some niggas slangin' iron Tryna make it out the ghetto, only thing that's on his mind Feel like you won't, they try to tell 'em everything gon' be fine He on his own, everybody left him behind (yeah) This for them thugs in the trenches And them ones waitin' on the visits Free all them niggas in prison, I wouldn't wish that on my enemy And all of my thugs in the ghetto (woah) Just listen Keep grindin', you gon' get it, nobody gotta see your vision This for them thug niggas in the street (street) Can't go nowhere without the heat (the heat) And he ain't playin' no games, load that bitch and bang it if they want the beef (rrah) Them computer games will get you deleted He ain't got that iron, he ain't sleepin' (uh-uh) And lately he been doin' bad, he ready to flash for the littlest reason Got too many people in the ghetto (ghetto) It's hard for me to let go (let go) I'll get all my sleep when I'm dead, bitch, what the fuck I need to rest for? Bust that boy up, he ain't die Lil' unlucky, but he blessed, though (you blessed) Fuck the police, I ain't talkin', put me in the room, I got strep throat (damn) I ain't have no money for a pistol, I had to rob a nigga with a fake gun (get 'em) Bought a pistol, got caught with it, said "Fuck Bail", now I'm on the run (run) Give a fuck if you a lil' older, in these streets you gon' be my son (for real) Get your money up, 'cause when you beefin' with no money, ain't no fun I got some niggas doin' time, got some niggas slangin' iron Tryna make it out the ghetto, only thing that's on his mind Feel like you won't, they try to tell 'em everything gon' be fine He on his own, everybody left him behind (yeah) This for them thugs in the trenches And them ones waitin' on the visits Free all them niggas in prison, I wouldn't wish that on my enemy And all of my thugs in the ghetto Just listen Keep grindin', you gon' get it, nobody gotta see your vision Okay, my young nigga don't smoke, but he keep a smoke pole, huh Big bro still smokin' and he on parole I used to hate my grandma house, that shit was full of roaches, yeah I be paranoid, so watch how you approach me Ayy, one day, we gon' make it out the ghetto I had a dream that I was rich, I woke up dead broke (I was dead broke) I swear, I shed so many tears I can't cry no more (cry no more) They gave lil' bro so many years he can't slide no more, uh (can't slide no more) Chasin' so much paper that my leg broke, yeah, uh Trappin' and finessin' off a earphone, uh Ayy, finger-fuck that money, treat it like a red bone Nigga play, I'll put his name on a headstone I got some niggas doin' time, got some niggas slangin' iron Tryna make it out the ghetto only thing that's on his mind Feel like you won't, they try to tell 'em everything gon' be fine He on his own, everybody left him behind (yeah) This for them thugs in the trenches And them ones waitin' on the visits Free all them niggas in prison, I wouldn't wish that on my enemy And all of my thugs in the ghetto (woah) Just listen Keep grindin', you gon' get it, nobody gotta see your vision, yeah
Writer(s): Rayshawn Bennett, Marcus Murray, Zachary Thomas Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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