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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Kevin Gates
Kevin Gates
Vocals
Pancho
Pancho
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Francisco Montoya Jr
Francisco Montoya Jr
Songwriter
Kevin Gilyard
Kevin Gilyard
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Nicholas Cavalieri
Nicholas Cavalieri
Mixing Engineer
Pancho
Pancho
Producer

Lyrics

Who? Ayy, say, dick, who you talkin' to? Ayy, bitch, I'd dive all across the top of your shit, bitch I can't never go to jail 'cause I'm diplomatic with status M&M's been comin' in like they press and print at the factory (ooh) Used to be sackin' sacks of the grass in between my classes (I did) Tryna stretch a bag of bag 'cause my fingertips done got ashy (shit) You can stuff the corners with cabbage and burn the tips of the plastic Saran wrappin' zips in the kitchen, making a sandwich Carolina Street, I'm active, I'm posted, controllin' traffic Trap dreamin', lean, I'm pourin' while wheelin' foreigns on campus (vroom) How could life be boring? Got foreign shit on my mattress (ooh) Cameras on my farm, my children play with alpacas Relationships get torn in case you've been misinformed (uh) Once upon a time, my self-esteem wasn't on (uh) Fat women, I would charm, drop dick on 'em, whip they cars (woo) Hide the pack inside they homes, in they names, activate phones (hello?) Straight up, I got strong, bless the child who hold his own B-O-N, big ol' nigga, talk to me, you watch your tone Pockets was out of pocket, but nowadays I've been clockin' (uh-huh) Garage like Enterprises, it's safe to say I got options Relationship had a heartbreak, nowadays a big driver (woo) Took myself out, went shoppin' and then I forgot about it (I did) Everything in perspective, I know I'm special, got power (woo) Anybody in my presence respectin' how I be rockin' Any attitude, the Uber, maneuver you from around me I don't need nobody, please leave me just how you found me (for real) Tan sweats and white tees how I be when I'm lounging Your bitch kinda like me, keep away 'fore I pound her (boom, boom) Watch her add the icing, on the stove baking brownies I could break a brick down, turn a bitch into ounces Watchin' on the camera, trappin' inside of houses (yeah) Safe to pin a nick down, trappin' from off the couches (for real) Watch how I put my wrist down, jumpin' back, got it bouncin' (huh?) Shawty gettin' dicked down, plot but receiving caution (what?) Yeah, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes (what up?) Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes (what up?) Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord (what up?) Yes, Lord, yes, y-y-yes, Lord, yes (what up? What up? What up?) Yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes (what up?) Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes (what up?) Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord (what up?) Yes, Lord, yes, y-y-yes, Lord, yes (what up? What up? What up?) Beaucoup rubber band getter, only rapping what I live out (yeah) Me and a transgender on my hip, she got her dick out Not into superstition, I don't listen what I hear 'bout (for what?) They talkin' in subliminal, she tryna make me click out Pull up by your chick house, turn it to a click house Catch you at the club, punch it out and whip the stick out God, protect me from my friends, I know he tryna get me smashed Throwin' crosses bad behind my back, he tryna bust my ass Necklace glisten, hustled hard for this, I had to bust my ass Hurt to tell my children what they uncle tryna do they dad Presenting outside business to my bitch, he tryna hurt my swag Never thought this shit'd get like this, I'm 'bout to work my bag Skrrtin' Jags, test-driving Teslas, purchase shirts from Saks Birkin bags, that was just a purse, I got a worthless ex (yeah) For certain that, not tryna let me fuck then what you smirkin' at? Disperse from that, killers burstin' straps, they heard our murder raps Servin' crack with addicts and police is out here lurkin' at (woo, woo) Slow beat for sure, the rabbit always lose, I think the turtle fast (zoom) Bale, I love the smell, use your head, I'm 'bout to catch a sale Niggas know I'm yeah with the yeah, you could check the belt (ding) Section where they pump rocks, rifle with the bump stock Brand new box of baking soda, shakin' all the clumps out Chastisin' gremlins with the glizzy with the switch on him Brasi handlin' business, now it's women tryna kiss on him But back when he wasn't havin', looked at him like he had shit on him Diamonds go to dancing, would you look at all that shit on him? I be out in public moving solo with that poker face (ooh) Say he want my head, bitch, it ain't difficult to know this Gates He know he ain't that, so he go places where he know it's safe I run up a tab then go blow a bunch of racks away I go on the ave then go throw a bunch of slabs away Junkies on my ass, caught a blast, all they know is Gates (God) Yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord Yes, Lord, yes, y-y-yes, Lord, yes Yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes Y-y-yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord, yes, Lord Yes, Lord, yes, y-y-yes, Lord, yes
Writer(s): Kevin Gilyard, Pancho Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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