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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lute
Lute
Vocals
Omen
Omen
Vocals
Ari Lennox
Ari Lennox
Vocals
Childish Major
Childish Major
Vocals
REASON
REASON
Vocals
Doctur Dot
Doctur Dot
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Courtney Salter
Courtney Salter
Songwriter
Luther Nicholson
Luther Nicholson
Songwriter
Damon Coleman
Damon Coleman
Songwriter
Eian Parker
Eian Parker
Songwriter
Markus Randle
Markus Randle
Songwriter
Kalon Berry
Kalon Berry
Songwriter
Robert Lee Gill Jr
Robert Lee Gill Jr
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kal Banx
Kal Banx
Producer
Ron Gilmore
Ron Gilmore
Co-Producer
Juro "Mez" Davis
Juro "Mez" Davis
Mixing Engineer
Joe LaPorta
Joe LaPorta
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Ooh-ah Ooh-ooh-ooh Hey-yeah-yeah Ooh-ah Ooh-ah, ooh-ah Ooh-ah Ooh-ooh-ooh Ah-ah-ah Ooh-ah, ooh-ah Hell yeah, yeah (Ayy-ayy) Hell yeah Hey-hey Who gon' find the lost souls? In Atlanta shapeshifters and trolls, how did I get here? My magic carpet unraveled (Woo) You scroll through all the channels with your fraudulent financials Blame your mama 'cause you started with hardstanders We gon' pray on that (Oh Lord) Always had my flow, I used to lay on that You can say it face to face, facts You no longer need it, make your way on back You can't escape what you attract, or what you say on wax Please don't overthink on that Like-like-like, like-like-like, like-like-like Who gon' find that lost boy? High class that she fall for him Them whispers get lost and breezes Got them whisper, man he call for me CVS is hiring and when you drop Your application, get some Halls for me Coughin' hard, but ain't no need to get that coffin for me Ain't nothin' serious, just it's cold and all the niggas on new levels Got through locks so I'm past the codes, outchea tho Queen City but no bitch on my roads I'ma own that bitch though, Can't front on my bill folds, sittin' on gold Ooh-ooh-ooh Ayy-yee, yee (Ooh-ah, ooh-ah) Ooh-ooh-woah, ooh-ah I used to look, down on myself Like, what am I missin'? Now I, go to the bank Now they, talk to me different Can you split that in 20's, hunnids, a couple 50's? I used to get curved, now bitches DM they titties Old friends turn to foes, can't bring fuck niggas with me like Fuck it I'm ready to go, niggas be actin' like hoes Bitches be tryna get chose, that's just the way that shit go You can't complain if you broke, get you some money and clothes I got some money with goals I know I ain't perfect, barely worth it Been an asshole lately but not on purpose, shit be on my mind I look around like, "Damn, ain't nobody on my side" But never question if I'm down to ride Tripped the hurdle but the ground I walk is fertile Give you classic quotes just for kicks like Virgil Look who in my circle The ones that knew me when the nights was hurtful Wins, I got a ton like Churchill But what about the losses overcome, I wasn't Oprah's son 'Round my way they holdin' guns I'm more like Roberson, I'm not a shooter All I did was show love, like the Kamasutra I was tryna find what's truer I couldn't look inside the mirror Tryna climb out my dilemmas In the land of splendor, glamor, and some damaged women Strappin' up, strappin' up, can't do no gamblin' with 'em Shootin' high percentage, I been changin' my agenda Finally came up out my shell, I ain't have no Master Splinter Became the Top Chef, this another classic dinner I fell down, came back, now that's a natural winner Never could I pretend, nor ever would I surrender, yeah Ooh-ooh-ooh Ayy-yee-yee (Ooh-ah, ooh-ah) Ooh-ah (Ooh-ah) Ooh-ah Ooh-ooh-ooh Ayy-yeah-yeah Ooh-ah, ooh-ah Ooh-ah Ooh-ooh Look, I been speakin' for the misguided sons and the dead fathers As I walk through the shadow of death, where we tread waters Paint pictures of the stories forgotten, them dead authors His blood gettin' mixed with that paint, so we dead artists He told me, "Nigga, you better slide", you ain't said nada Them niggas took my nigga, so fuck it, this lead karma Struggle to pull the trigger as I did the tears fallin' 'Cause I know I let my mama down, she done raised all us She gave up everything she had to keep our road straight We ain't even have no room to have our own space Look I gave everything I have to make my own way And in three seconds I made a decision to let this clip off This ain't even related, just some shit I had to get off Repetition how we make decisions 'Cause my brother doin' life And the judge done told him he would never get off The struggle like hand me downs, nigga one size fits all Woke up sweatin', panic with deep and breathin' Goin' through deep depression, wonderin' why I chose to live And the way with my freedom indecisive, it's on the fence When I been blessed with rappin', no wonder they call it gifts Got up from that bed, picked up the phone like, "What I missed?" Got a call from some Dreamers, said that they was out for revenge Excited then I thought about it, And started crying 'cause a year ago my Cousin was killed searchin' for his, yeah
Writer(s): Kalon Berry, Luther Nicholson, Eian Undrai Parker, Robert Gill, Olu O. Fann, Damon Coleman, Ronald Eugene Gilmore, Carlos Alfonso Mejia Vizcarra, Markus Alandrus Randle, Ari Lennox Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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