Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Juice WRLD
Juice WRLD
Vocals
Trippie Redd
Trippie Redd
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
David Karbal
David Karbal
Composer
Kim Candilora
Kim Candilora
Composer
Nicholas Mira
Nicholas Mira
Composer
William Repko II
William Repko II
Composer
Jarad Higgins
Jarad Higgins
Songwriter
Danny Lee Snodgrass, Jr.
Danny Lee Snodgrass, Jr.
Composer
Michael Lamar White
Michael Lamar White
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Diplo
Diplo
Co-Producer
Terrance Armond
Terrance Armond
Assistant Recording Engineer
REPKO
REPKO
Producer
Aryay
Aryay
Co-Producer
Edgard N. Herrera
Edgard N. Herrera
Mixing Engineer
KC Supreme
KC Supreme
Producer
Nick Mira
Nick Mira
Producer
Pharaoh Vice
Pharaoh Vice
Producer
Taz Taylor
Taz Taylor
Producer

Lyrics

Internet Money, bitch (Nick, you're stupid) Baby, come and have a blast with me Do everything I say like your majesty Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me Fuck with me, baby, come get this bag with me Been alone for a minute, that shit been dragging me Craving your love, it's heart-attacking me Tryna get in that pussy, baby, that mac and cheese I cannot show these bitches no sympathy Or these niggas, they simps and they hella bitch to me I was just fortunate, got the remedy Fuck that bitch and then dip, I got them chips to receive, yeah Baby, come and have a blast with me Do everything I say like your majesty Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me (uh) You picked that knife up and you stabbin' me Wish it was a paper cut, but it's a gash, I bleed out And the way you keep harassin' me It's a shame this the way that it has to be, oh Uh, yeah, time is of the essence You know damn well you bring hell, I should call a reverend Devil horns on a angel, still haven't learned my lesson (uh) We're a mess and our life's a wreck (hey) Toxic, toxic, toxic The most beautiful things grow old and start rottin' I should've turned away when I found out you were demonic Let's be honest, you're the devil's daughter Say hey to your father, uh, he owe me 20 dollars We gon' run through hell with like 20-hundred choppers We gon' give 'em hell and I put that on my mama Me and Trippie Redd boolin' back in the Bahamas Baby, come and have a blast with me Do everything I say like your majesty Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me Fuck with me, baby, come get this bag with me Been alone for a minute, that shit been dragging me Craving your love, it's heart-attacking me Tryna get in that pussy, baby, that mac and cheese Gang, gang, gang Probably fuckin' your mama Three K on my wrist like André Servin' like entrée Ha, huh, you dig? You dig? You dig?
Writer(s): Kim Candilora Ii, David M Karbal, Nicholas Mira, Danny Lee Snodgrass Jr., William Repko, Michael Lamar Ii White, Jarad A. Higgins, Thomas Wesley Pentz, Henry Lother Nichols Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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