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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
42 Dugg
42 Dugg
Rap
EST Gee
EST Gee
Rap
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Dion Hayes
Dion Hayes
Songwriter
George Stone III
George Stone III
Songwriter
Deontae Hammond
Deontae Hammond
Songwriter
Aaron Butler
Aaron Butler
Songwriter
Merle Staten II
Merle Staten II
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Flex On The Beat
Flex On The Beat
Producer
SK808
SK808
Producer
Ari Morris
Ari Morris
Mixing Engineer
Logan Schmitz
Logan Schmitz
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Mike Tucci
Mike Tucci
Mastering Engineer
Khaya Gilika
Khaya Gilika
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Flexin' on that b-, hold up Know it's either us or them And we'd never fuck with them (forever rolling) Ten-thousand in Benz, two-hundred all in a Ford Five-hundred cash, no rent, baby, it's yours Jet to the moon when I get bored You still got your rose Patek, Doggy Bone? Of course Twelve hundred the horse, nine-hundred the torque (skrr) Light tap the pedal and watch this bitch twerk Lot of shit niggas doin', I was doin' it first Like puttin' niggas on shirts, sellin' it like it's merch Free GottiBandz and Dirt, no, I don't fuck with no Percs Niggas won't buy a bag, but niggas'll buy a purse I guess 'cause I'm turnt, I'm 'posed to go through the worst Val got me in church, co-signing the service All my sprites dirty, twenty-three with a thirty No attempts for me, I only been doing murders Tommy went through the weed and money went through the Gerber He ain't with us, then search him, strip him, fuck niggas Promethazine in my soda like, "Fuck liquor" Yeah, half a ticket on my neck, this a Lamb', not a 'Vette She wanna be my bitch, make her sit on it, and fetch In two friends' group text, "Doggy, hit 'em next" And we was beefing with him 'til we seen he was a rat And last opp died, y'all ain't slide yet And last I cried, whole squads got wet I heard niggas' words wasn't shit on they block I really run my city if I'm rappin', or I'm not Yeah, I see a dumb nigga make a living out the pot I'm a seven-figure nigga, I ain't sleepin' on no cot A half a million and killers come get it while it's hot And me and your nigga more than different, bae, he an opp And he don't know the feeling, 200K on a watch He only know the feeling, 200K on his top I'm 'posed to believe y'all killers, all them attempted? I made shit get missing, all while becoming the richest I heard about through word of mouth, how you couldn't stack attention You puttin' 'em in danger, you livin' with all them bitches I told her, "I got five grand, here, go start a business" And since we got up with you, that should let you know she did it Don't care how many chains y'all give him, he not official Get every single drop you can find, I got a nickel Yeah, half a ticket on my neck, this a Lamb', not a 'Vette She wanna be my bitch, make her sit on it, and fetch In two friends' group text, "Doggy, hit 'em next" And we was beefing with him 'til we seen he was a rat And last opp died, y'all ain't slide yet And last I cried, whole squads got wet I heard niggas' words wasn't shit on they block I really run my city if I'm rappin', or I'm not
Writer(s): Taylor Watson, Merle Ryan Staten, Dion Marquise Hayes, George Stone, Aaron Butler, Jeffery Jones, Deontae Hammond Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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