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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Polo G
Polo G
Vocals
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Taurus Bartlett
Taurus Bartlett
Songwriter
Bryson Potts
Bryson Potts
Songwriter
Joshua Luellen
Joshua Luellen
Songwriter
Matthew-Kyle Adrian Brown
Matthew-Kyle Adrian Brown
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Southside
Southside
Producer
Twizz
Twizz
Producer
Todd Hurtt
Todd Hurtt
Recording Engineer
Ignacio Portales
Ignacio Portales
Assistant Engineer
Aaron Mattes
Aaron Mattes
Mixing Engineer
Patrizio Pigliapoco
Patrizio Pigliapoco
Mixing Engineer
Smatt Sertified
Smatt Sertified
Producer

Lyrics

Uh-uh, uh, mm Uh-uh, mm-mm-mm-mm (Southside on the track, yeah) Uh, uh, uh Prada steppin', in your club, we got a lot of weapons Yeah, bitch, I know that I'm the shit, I'm unapologetic My steppers marchin' like a band, they hit your block and wet it Hell, nah, we ain't playin', you better call the reverend I was taught to drop an opp before I go and drop a diss (drop a diss) Won't apologize about that lick, tell him come get his shit (come get yo' shit) Brand-new bitch with brand-new tits, her ass thicker than Jiffy mix Don't fuck with no set-up, bitch, you play, I smack you with this blick (brrt, brrt-brrt) Pass the Glock, a give and go, shoot it with me when I blow At your top, we hit your throat, I call that hangin' from a rope Niggas know how I be gettin' too wicked, two titties on semis My glizzies got jimmies, no jammin', knock the jelly out biscuits (brrt-b-brrt) Boy, you got me fucked up (you got me fucked up) Bitch, you know you lucked up (you know you lucked up) Caught him out in traffic, hit the car, but he duck, duck (come here, boy) A goose better get loose (brrt) Shooters comin' after you, and all of your troops (all of your troops) What you gonna do when this fire get to lettin' loose? (When that thing get to lettin' loose, brrt) Lock him in the trunk (in the trunk) Take the emergency exit off, so he can't run (ayy, he can't run from us) Doin' donuts, havin' fun (ayy, havin' fun) This his last ride before he meet my fuckin' gun, nigga (come here, come here, brrt!) Prada steppin', in your club, we got a lot of weapons Yeah, bitch, I know that I'm the shit, I'm unapologetic My steppers marchin' like a band, they hit your block and wet it Hell, nah, we ain't playin', you better call the reverend I was taught to drop an opp before I go and drop a diss (drop a diss) Won't apologize about that lick, tell him come get his shit (come get yo' shit) Brand-new bitch with brand-new tits, her ass thicker than Jiffy mix Don't fuck with no set-up, bitch, you play, I smack you with this blick (uh-uh) (brrt) Dracos, we'll dump him, slump him like he sippin' purple lean Broski shoot your man's all in his shit to get his hurt redeemed Knock him off for snitchin', better act like you ain't heard a thing Better pray you miss that FaceTime when that burner ring Body bag, zip him up, it's a murder scene Left him with a tag like he tryna show his Purple jeans Deep textin' and decoys to the hood, we servin' certain fiends I know the feds listenin', tryna figure out what my verses mean Out the window, dreads shakin', trappin', duckin' fed cases Dough boy, I was bread chasin', pocket full of dead faces I'm best friends with Ben Franklin, Addies got my head racin' Problems got me med takin', models in my bed naked Prada steppin', in your club, we got a lot of weapons Yeah, bitch, I know that I'm the shit, I'm unapologetic My steppers marchin' like a band, they hit your block and wet it Hell, nah, we ain't playin', you better call the reverend I was taught to drop an opp before I go and drop a diss (drop a diss) Won't apologize about that lick, tell him come get his shit (come get yo' shit) Brand-new bitch with brand-new tits, her ass thicker than Jiffy mix Don't fuck with no set-up, bitch, you play, I smack you with this blick (brrt, brrt)
Writer(s): Joshua Luellen, Taurus Bartlett, Bryson Lashun Potts, Matthew-kyle Adrian Brown Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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