album cover
Concussions
3,922
Hip-Hop/Rap
Concussions was released on May 18, 2018 by YSN Records, Inc. / EMPIRE as a part of the album No Hooks
album cover
Release DateMay 18, 2018
LabelYSN Records, Inc. / EMPIRE
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM98

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lud Foe
Lud Foe
Vocals
Kid Wond3r
Kid Wond3r
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bill Hullett
Bill Hullett
Songwriter
Anthony Beecham
Anthony Beecham
Songwriter
Willie Akins
Willie Akins
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kid Wond3r
Kid Wond3r
Producer

Lyrics

[Intro]
Gang
Young street ****, young street ****
Young street ****
Gang (Gang)
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
[Verse 1]
Ever since I fucked the game up, they try to fuck my name up
You call the police if you want, but you know they can't tame us
My old hoes hate my new ways 'cause I came up
With old poles we catch new bodies, bitch, we dangerous
[Verse 2]
My rich bitch make a broke bitch get a change up
We caught a opp, now the paramedics pickin' brains up
We got the chain and we got the things get the change up
The white shit I searched for make the fiends veins blow up
[Verse 3]
I rock mix match designer, I got mix match straps
I got mix match bitches, white, yellow and black
Skinny **** but you know my pockets always fat
And if you trappin', ****, why your pockets always flat?
See, I started out young, robbin', dressing in black
In every verse, I spit a hundred notebooks for the facts
Every pleb own a hundred extendos on deck
It's the money on your head, that's a big ol' check
[Verse 4]
I'm ballin', if a **** foul, he meet big old Tek
You gamble which in life, you fuck around and lose your bet
You think that I was Busta Rhymes with this eight round check
I got the five, oh, they mad at us and no lay tech, aye
[Verse 5]
We'll body bag him, toe tag him
Closed hands, I'll smash him, flat pack him
I'm the chosen one, got everybody light drafting
New bitch suck the soul out of me like Dracula
[Verse 6]
I'd beat the pussy like, "Guys, I'm going to the club"
My wrist mad at my chain, they be holdin' grudges
It just me and Ye ridin' with his AK
Catch a **** broad day, do him the worst way
[Verse 7]
Met that bitch on Monday, I fucked on the first day
I kicked her out on Tuesday, I'm drunk off the D'ussé
It is a Jimmy Choo day, check out my shoe game
This Mac got a shoestring, it spit out blue flame
These **** too lame, ain't in my food chain
These **** fool, gang, they be acting too strange
I got a one watch but like two chains
I'm in the Maybach, it's one car, but two lanes
[Verse 8]
It's nothin' to me, who fuckin' with me?
And I'ma kick her out the spot if she ain't fuckin' for free
I aimed at the **** head, he was ducking from me
You say that that's your bitch, ****, she done suck it for me
I called kid and wanna tell him come and fuck for me
My **** in the jungle, yeah, like a branch from the tree
These **** envy me, but I'm who they wanting to be
Till I pull up on them fog ****, now they running from me
[Verse 9]
I drop my molly and that drink, make that bitch OD
I get that bitch pissing drunk till she gotta go pee
I hit the mall, buy a house, bitch, I'm always fleek
And I've been ducking the police, I heard they're looking for me
I'm B-O-M, bitch, ain't no **** bigger than me
Mama say fuck a bitch 'cause there's too many fish in the sea
I hit the club, though, I gotta bring my pistol with me
I hang with thug ****, they'll kill a **** for me, yeah
[Verse 10]
The phone doin' on, I'ma get me someone in my waist on
And they're countin' blue hunnids, ridin' foreign cars
One had lights 'cause I'm a youngun
If you ain't talkin' money, don't tell me nothin'
I fell off in the club, it was bossin'
Rolling off a flat, bitch, I'm bossin', **** ain't no nothin'
I pistol whip your head, leave your shit like a pumpkin
I give a fuck **** concussion
[Outro]
Gang, gang
All that's not shit, no else
I'm rockin' little, aye
Skrrt, brow pow
Written by: Anthony Beecham, Bill Hullett
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