Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
BlueBucksClan
BlueBucksClan
Performer
DJ
DJ
Rap
Jeeezy
Jeeezy
Rap
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Deon Hawkins
Deon Hawkins
Composer
Jaylar Abram
Jaylar Abram
Composer
Fred Adkins Jr.
Fred Adkins Jr.
Composer
Edgar Organista
Edgar Organista
Composer
Julian Mason
Julian Mason
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ten11
Ten11
Producer
Baby E
Baby E
Producer
LilJuMadeDaBeat
LilJuMadeDaBeat
Producer
William Binderup
William Binderup
Mixing Engineer
AyyMook
AyyMook
Recording Engineer
Ian Sefchick
Ian Sefchick
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Running up them blue bills, Devin Singletary
She got on thousand dollar heels if you seen her near me
You too hyped about these hoes that I hit already
I’m the flyest if you look it in the dictionary
New bitch, this ain’t the same one you seen already
I’m at home with the maid, yeah, the kitchen dirty
When I’m old and I’m gone, it’s gon' be legendary
Make sure it say I had the hoes in my obituary
Put my bones on the mannequin in Fendi, fuck a cemetery
Hang my jersey in the rafters of Rodeo, flyest **** ever
Pop the Addy in Google maps, now I feel like I can go wherever
All these **** asking about some little bitches that I can’t remember
Big foreign, V12, it got dual pipes
No plug, no deal, I pay full price
Had the top in ten minutes, can’t stay full nights
It ain’t even been a whole day, we drank a full pint
I’m the flyest **** in this bitch, you can see the feathers
I don’t even know what I just poured, I ain’t even measure
Feeling down, I go shopping, now I’m feeling better
Got a pair of bitches tryna top me, that’s a double header
Thousand dollar jacket but to you it’s just a silly sweater
Remember I ain’t have it, now I’m balling like I’m Willie Weathers
More piling in, it keep falling, tryna stack it better
I’m in Saint Laurent, think I’m falling for this satin sweater
Thousand dollar shoes, yeah, they patent leather
Yeah, I know that’s your bitch but I can hit whenever
Big foreign hogging space, park this shit wherever
Big wood, give a fuck, spark this shit wherever
Clipper game, Doc Rivers told me, “Sit wherever”
My bitch hate when I’m with DJ, lot of hoes when we get together
Never needed help when I’m in Gucci putting fifths together
She ain’t really got no ass but she bad, I’m fucking missionary
Thinking she the one, she ain’t even knowing this shit temporary
She ain’t even do no wrong, left her on the tenth of Februrary
Where the cameras, Clan tearing down this booth, this shit legendary
Talk a lot of shit but very well-spoken to the banker clerking
Talking loud so these broke ass **** in the back can hear me
Talking loud so them **** hear this shit through the door
Tell the hoes “shhh” when my bitch call, I can’t ignore
Asking me about another bitch, yeah, I used to know her
I was lost for words, caught me cheating, alright moving forward
Got some solid hoes, damn, I need to come to Houston more
I ain’t got no answer when my bitch say, “What you do it for?”
In the city I’m like Bron, I’m the **** that they rooting for
Written by: Deon Hawkins, Edgar Organista, Fred Adkins Jr., Jaylar Abram, Julian Mason
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