Music Video

Pudgy
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Smino
Smino
Vocals
Lil Uzi Vert
Lil Uzi Vert
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Eliot Peter Phillip Dubock
Eliot Peter Phillip Dubock
Songwriter
Chidi Osondu
Chidi Osondu
Songwriter
Christopher Smith Jr.
Christopher Smith Jr.
Songwriter
Daoud Anthony
Daoud Anthony
Songwriter
Marcus Alandrus Randle
Marcus Alandrus Randle
Songwriter
Symere Woods
Symere Woods
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Smino
Smino
Recording Engineer
Childish Major
Childish Major
Producer
Beat Butcha
Beat Butcha
Co-Producer
Elton "L10" Chueng
Elton "L10" Chueng
Mixing Engineer
Daniel Vargas
Daniel Vargas
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Robert Mendioro
Robert Mendioro
Assistant Mastering Engineer
Daoud Anthony
Daoud Anthony
Co-Producer
Chi-Chi
Chi-Chi
Co-Producer
Don Outten
Don Outten
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

Ooh, oh Ooh, ooh, oh Yeah, yeah, yeah (Haha, Childish Major) Who in the truck with the pretty guts? Pudgy fuck, no tummy tuck Got the city shook, mama look Bitches glissy glossin' it up in the back 'Bout to break her back to some rap shit Uzi vertebrae up like murder rate, up Pearly gates Reason number one is I'm the son of Trees and moons, and martyrs, authors Right when neighbors callin' me out, I came around the hardest (oh) Playin' target practice, made the bad bitch a target (oh) Darlin', what's you bargain? Let get it bustin' like we Boston Your nigga all simp, blew his head like hе Marge, damn Damn, Atlanta made it, 'Lanta made it (ow) Out thе city, show in South beach, bought her nails, shit (ow) Mike Wazowski, got my eye on her Pudgy in the pussy got some power on it, like Tell you somethin' Who in the truck with the pretty guts? Pudgy fuck, no tummy tuck Got the city shook, mama look Bitches glissy glossin' it up in the back 'Bout to break her back to some rap shit Uzi vertebrae up like murder rate, up Pearly gates I don't know if I'ma get to pearly gates (pearly gates) Standin' on top of the world, I'ma be like 7'8" (wow) I wonder where my soul gon' go until the devil says (no) I might got eight different baby mamas in seven states (states) I don't care what you do in the daytime, and I better late I don't care what you do in my whip, take your shoes off, anime I don't drink no Henny, Casamigos be the better grade I done put diamonds in my AP and it made me feel so late And I got my momma a new home, it made me feel so great Late better than ever, I feel like I'm greater than ever Fight for this cheddar, the death get you jammed like vendetta Who in the truck with the pretty guts? Pudgy fuck, no tummy tuck Got the city shook, mama look Bitches glissy glossin' it up in the back 'Bout to break her back to some rap shit Uzi vertebrae up like murder rate, up Pearly gates Reason number one is on the sun are Trees and moons, and martyrs, authors Right when neighbors callin' me out, I came around the hardest Playin' target practice, made the bad bitch a target Who you, bro? I don't know you, nigga, need to move over Who smokin'? I'm on Mars right now, I feel like Bruno Got eight pack, loud as drum, this shit deserve a drum roll On your track, that could brag on brag on dumb hoes (it do) But no niggas that be burnt out like that fronto (uh-uh) I'm so serious, I be better off boolin' back on my own (ooh, ooh, ooh, yeah) Who in the truck with the-
Writer(s): Markus Alandrus Randle, Eliot Peter Phillip Dubock, Christopher Smith Jr., Daoud Anthony, Chidi Steve Osondu Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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