Music Video

ChillinIt - One Breath One Take (Infinity 8D) 🎧
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Chillinit
Chillinit
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Blake Turnell
Blake Turnell
Composer
Cody Rounds
Cody Rounds
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Nerve
Nerve
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Fuck me You know, so we ain't really never had no old ones Uh, I gotta go in Don't judge, fuck it Beast mode Ayy, uh Raindrop, drop top I got Migos to pass the weed I'm not offset, but I set off with the takeoff Probably why the hottie gotta body like Cardi B Bob Marley, I pass the weed Pass the tree, 'cause my lyrics are a masterpiece You can find me in the house like I'm Ali G And I got a motherfuckin' ounce like I'm Charlie Sheen (Perfect) Fuck my ex, I can't stand her, argh Fuck my friends, I ain't Chandler, argh First names Blake, not Adam See me travellin' the longest yards, I'm A. Sandler, argh I was in a hotel loungin' Me and Baggsy were smokin' cones And now I'm tryna get a bag on my broken bone I'm livin' like a rockstar like I'm Post Malone Slow down one time, baby, let's go Heck no, I'm wanna put a house up in escrow I just wanna get a Ying Yang Twin Then show 'em my Lil Jon till the girls wanna get low (Yeah) I'm the one to put a bar in the underground You motherfuckers better make your thanks When it comes to the dollar, dollar bills Yeah, Chillin' get all the money, I'm a Saint George bank (Perfect) Woo, woo, find me at a rave Gettin' blazed with the kush and I'm lookin' for a pill hit Got the gloves at the back With the ball, my brother, I ain't never Adam Gilchrist Only my Don Bradman would get that The bender it goes five days, test match This ain't the Basement Jaxx But "Where's your head at?" Ha, stay in the cut with the sesh lad Call up my crew, "Where the sesh at?" If it's your wife we don't text back Arnie Schwarzenegger, I flex rap Hit the forty, Rick and Morty Fly through space, stay high with a jetpack I swear that your bitch is boring, switch the story You might end in the place where my ex at (Perfect) I'm a man, bruv, I do what a man does So I do it for my man, then my man up I grew up not fuckin' with the mainstream 'Cause I had Big L rockin' on my samsung You can't be damn stupid Brother, I'm chill, don't ask your man, "Who's this?" I jump on the 'gram, I pass the damn doobie I smoke me a spliff like Armin Van Buren No money, so I skip my rent See Jackson high all the time like 50 Cent I ain't ever done muay thai But I still get high with my homies that hit the legs All of you faggots are soundin' American Bruv, I'm the pimp at your party Check out this Aussie that's swaggin' With Nautica jackets and shrimps on the barbie (Perfect) These days I'm sippin' the cheap whiskey Till the day that I die I'll be high No surprise, I ain't givin' a fuck, it seems risky I'll overdose on Nurofen Plus like 360 I was under satan's spell But Blake rebelled, "The drugs I would take as well" I blazed the L, then stare up at the face of hell That make a motherfucker laugh like I'm Dave Schapelle Look back at it, oh my God Wu-Tang Clan's playin' on my iPod Got a white girl in some lingerie She pass J's with her arse in my face and the lights on Ah, I can't even breath, bro, fuck it, that's it One take 420 fam Bodybag Media, deadthread (Shh, smoke weed every day) Ah, pack me up, call me a stripper, shit, I'm fucked That was harder than I thought Argh
Writer(s): Blake James Turnell, Cody H. Rounds Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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