Music Video

"Super Bowl" Conway the Machine X Juicy J X Sauce Walka (Visualizer)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Conway the Machine
Conway the Machine
Vocals
Sauce Walka
Sauce Walka
Vocals
Juicy J
Juicy J
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Demond Price
Demond Price
Songwriter
Albert Mondane
Albert Mondane
Songwriter
Jordan Houston
Jordan Houston
Songwriter
Lloyd Brown II
Lloyd Brown II
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Juicy J
Juicy J
Producer
Demond Price
Demond Price
Executive Producer
rocky tran
rocky tran
Recording Engineer
B-Don
B-Don
Recording Engineer
Iceman Chamberlain
Iceman Chamberlain
Recording Engineer
Sonny "Carson" Tudeme
Sonny "Carson" Tudeme
Mixing Engineer
Mark Christensen
Mark Christensen
Mastering Engineer
Jannique Heard
Jannique Heard
Creative Director
Crazymike
Crazymike
Producer

Lyrics

Play me some pimpin', man (What Juicy say? He be like, "Shut the fuck up") Yeah, big rings, two of those (yeah) Super Bowl, Super Bowl (yeah) Lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah) Lot of money, lot of money, yeah (woo) Big 40, nigga, play with me (huh?) Feelin' like I won the AFC (yeah) Lamb' truck to get from A to B (yeah) Still winnin', what they hate to see (yeah) Yeah, whoo, got the .40 on the stage with me (brr) Never lackin', nigga, wait and see (brr) Never lackin', nigga, play and see (brr) Whoo, whoo, whoo, fuck her good, she wanna stay with me (huh?) But I could never be faithful to a bitch, I don't live my life faithfully I'm only faithful to the cash, yeah (whoa) Straight forward to the bag, uh (whoa), I don't wait for it, I don't ask (whoa) I'ma take all of it, I take all it, I'ma take off, I'm finna blast (yeah) Yeah, play my tape for them, and they say, "Nah, the nigga spazzin" (yeah) Got Spade pourin' in the glass All my bitches ratchet, they like drinkin' out the bottle (ha) The bottle (ha), the bottle (whoo) Yeah, all my bitches ratchet, they like drinkin' out the bottle (whoo) The bottle (whoa), whoo, yeah Still on go, on missions Still keep the Draco with beam and extensions Still gon' air it if it's tension (brr, brr) Told 'em, "I don't really like that," they ain't listen Shoot it quick, I ain't missin' (boom, boom) Scope on the top of it, hit you from distance (whoa) I just won my division (whoa, whoa) Championship rings on my fist glisten (brr) Big rings, two of those (ah) Super Bowl, Super Bowl (yeah) Lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah) Lot of money, lot of money, whoa(yeah) Big 40, nigga, play with me (huh?) Feelin' like I won the AFC (yeah) Bulletproof truck to get from A to B (ooh-wee, ooh-wee) I'm really what you niggas claim to be (splash) Super Bowl ring, got the Rams sack Went Cooper Kupp, I done caught me a big bag Jugg Jalen Ramsey on the corner on a bitch back Girl, I'm a P, I don't move pounds or nick sacks Boy, take a Tic-Tac, talkin' that shit get you shitbagged Boy, you a slave with a chain, you got whiplash Sippin' slow soda, but still drive the whip fast Name is Jerome, but I Bettis won't hit back Escalade bulletproof Talkin' dog in the van, his name Scooby-Doo She got ass like a hippo up out the zoo But she still gotta pay if she comin' through Yeah, lil' mama a star and a comet too She can fall out the sky and land in my coupe Turnin' models to millions is nothin' new Baby girl, buy me Prada, I'm proud of you Congratulations Put her on stage, it's a graduation Bitch, I'm the dean of the college, and I'm glad you made it Nowadays, rap so fabricated I got all numbers in the books, I'm the yellow papers Showtime the wrist, yeah, Gervonta I done got rich out the streets, went the con way I'm from the home of the queen, that's Beyoncé But I done seen Destiny's Child die from gunplay (ooh-wee) Big rings, two of those (ah) Super Bowl, Super Bowl (yeah) Lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah) Lot of money, lot of money, whoa (Conway) Big forty, nigga, play with me (huh?) Feelin' like I won the AFC (yeah) Bulletproof truck to get from A to B (I got you, man) I'm really what you niggas claim to be (let's go) Juice havin' motion, don't get mad Just like groceries, your ho get bagged Young wild niggas wanna smoke shit bad Any disrespect and the toe get tagged Still ain't retired, guess I ain't finished yet I got more rings than Brady, I get a check BBL look deflated like Belichick No back and forth with a ho, I don't get in that Still rollin' loud way before the concert Trick on a bitch, I'd rather die first Pockets fat like Chuck, no Converse White ho, black ho, gotta keep it diverse (what?) Pimpin' ain't dead, gotta try first (what?) Anything ratchet is my verse (what?) She want me to put my meat on the grill, she gon' eat the dick up like a bratwurst (ha) Bitch, you can pull your pants up, who told you we was finna fuck? I want top first (mhm) Hollywood address, all type of access, but I had to get it off the block first (block first) Pretty bitch in my bed, paint the city red, paint the same color on an opp's shirt (opp's shirt) If you ain't finna gag on the tip and make your eyes water up, this dick will not work Won't work You know what I'm sayin'? Shut the fuck up Big rings, two of those (ah) Super Bowl, Super Bowl (yeah) Lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah) Lot of money, lot of money, whoa (yeah) Big 40, nigga, play with me (huh?) Feelin' like I won the AFC (yeah) Bulletproof truck to get from A to B (yeah) I'm really what you niggas claim to be (boom, boom)
Writer(s): Jordan Michael Houston, Demond Price, Albert Mondane Walker Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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