Music Video

Polo G - Young N Dumb (Official Video)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Polo G
Polo G
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Taurus Bartlett
Taurus Bartlett
Songwriter
Joshua Luellen
Joshua Luellen
Songwriter
Moritz Pomp
Moritz Pomp
Songwriter
Simon Drab
Simon Drab
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Southside
Southside
Producer
Yung Fuel
Yung Fuel
Producer
Simon On Da Guitar
Simon On Da Guitar
Producer
Todd Hurtt
Todd Hurtt
Recording Engineer
Ignacio Portales
Ignacio Portales
Assistant Engineer
Patrick Rosario
Patrick Rosario
Mastering Engineer
Patrizio Pigliapoco
Patrizio Pigliapoco
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

We was out here gangbangin' now Posted on the block, my chain swangin' Oh, to be young and dumb Don't believe in one-on-ones .30 clip the AR and we love them drums From where niggas die, gotta be smart and keep you a gun My homie died, heard his mama cry, R.I.P. to her son Wasn't on point, he'd be alive, he ain't get to run Livin' every day hopin' we survive, this the life of the slum In that black hearse, took his last ride, in the dirt, now he done So much goin' on, I can't feel a thing, I think that I'm numb Pay attention to detail Made a million off my email Out in Malibu steppin' on seashells But it could be a Glock 23 shell Was stuck in the hood but I prevailed Where I come from, we don't see Yale Block baby, I'm a trap scholar I really studied them streets well Eyeball the work, we don't need scales I got baking soda on resale He'll do anything not to see jail No respect if he act like a female He really a bitch, uh, I gave my glizzy a switch Four seconds, we empty a stick Bro just like Curry, he really don't miss, uh Oh, to be young and dumb Don't believe in one-on-ones .30 clip the AR and we love them drums From where niggas die, gotta be smart and keep you a gun My homie died, heard his mama cry, R.I.P. to her son Wasn't on point, he'd be alive, he ain't get to run Livin' every day hopin' we survive, this the life of the slum In that black hearse, took his last ride, in the dirt, now he done So much goin' on, I can't feel a thing, I think that I'm numb Society got too many distractions Every problem don't need a reaction Toughest niggas, they be in the past tense Even though kept his heat, he was lackin' Lost his homie, he seen the shit happen Knee-deep in that beef, it was crackin' All this trauma increasin' the damage Hot shit with 'em demons attractin' This shit'll leave you writin' love letters from a county cell How you fight in your sleep 'cause you haunted from soul odors? Dead body smell Face to face with the devil and he got control on him 'cause he know him well He just hopin' the Lord gon' give him another chance 'fore he go to Hell Oh, to be young and dumb Don't believe in one-on-ones .30 clip the AR and we love them drums From where niggas die, gotta be smart and keep you a gun My homie died, heard his mama cry, R.I.P. to her son Wasn't on point, he'd be alive, he ain't get to run Livin' every day hopin' we survive, this the life of the slum In that black hearse, took his last ride, in the dirt, now he done So much goin' on, I can't feel a thing, I think that I'm numb
Writer(s): Joshua Luellen, Taurus Bartlett, Simon Drab, Moritz Pomp Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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