Music Video

Featured In

Listen to Headlines (feat. Westside Gunn, Conway & Benny Ibarra) - Single by DJ Premier
ALBUMHeadlines (feat. Westside Gunn, Conway & Benny Ibarra) - SingleDJ Premier
Listen to Ahmad Jamal: Sampled featuring DJ Premier
PLAYLISTAhmad Jamal: SampledApple Music Hip-Hop

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
DJ Premier
DJ Premier
Performer
Westside Gunn
Westside Gunn
Performer
Conway
Conway
Performer
Benny Ibarra
Benny Ibarra
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Christopher E Martin
Christopher E Martin
Composer
Demond Price
Demond Price
Songwriter
Alvin Worthy
Alvin Worthy
Lyrics
Jeremie Pennick
Jeremie Pennick
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Premier
DJ Premier
Producer

Lyrics

Okay yeah You know what's up nigga "My team, living this American dream" Not a fucking game, nigga Machine bitch, Griselda, DJ Premier (You no know this you no know this) look I don't beef on the internet, I approach you I ain't shooting five with a nigga, I gotta smoke you My dog said his box just landed he got his load through Drive by music, this shit he can pop his toast to His chopper smoke and it adios you My buzz bi-coastal, took the game over like I'm supposed to I'm in position you cannot get close to I got shot in my throat still got four classics at my disposal And the bitches admire my ways, I was wildin' inside of a cage Now I set fire to stage Every verse recited is wave and I ain't writing a page Hardest nigga out 'til I lie in my grave Cook the white up in the microwave You at work trying to get holiday pay, I'm on an island for days Getting money like Big Meech '06 This Griselda, DJ Preemo shit, motherfucker Ayo, rich Lord, poor Lord, read the Headlines '04 me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes Coke spot I had at least hundred and a line Sell another brick and we coppin twin fives Ayo, out in Daytona, Rolex Daytona Fiend hit it once, fell out into a coma John Elliot, MAC-10s out the Rover Might shoot 32 times for the culture Niggas baggin' boy rockin' loverboy Undercover neighbor turn the oven on It only had two bodies, I put another on We sold a thousand bricks after summer gone Drive-in, the 45 with the potato lie in the right hand Dyin', first them burglars flew on the high end The prices won't drop unless you buy ten Hopped out the Lamborghini Urus, it's like God fish In my cell reminiscing when I used to time pitch The rhyme sick, K in the How you doin'? FlyGod Same shit Bigger bag, cocaine kill a man with the dealer tag Ayo, rich Lord, poor Lord, read the Headlines '04 me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes Coke spot I had at least hundred and a line Sell another brick and we copping twin fives I skip town with the money, my bitch the accountant You ever try to board a plane with a brick in your outfit You know I work hands-on, had to sit in them houses Learned from real drug dealers, not from internet browsing Who cooked the food in the kitchen that they fill in they mouth with They had the West like Deion when he split with the Falcons Look at me and see a vision of Malcolm, slightly grinning But as long as we keep winning, I can live with the outcome Drake had Rihanna, Mike had Madonna But I just drove a few bricks through the Carolinas It's true that they underestimate you when you're modest So I'm fronting on them every chance I get to be honest, nigga Ask about Griselda they tell you we the hottest Flip whatever I can sell ya 'cause failure won't be an option Yeah, I sowed a block together like a seamstress And I lived to rap about it on some Preem shit Ayo, rich Lord, poor Lord, read the Headlines '04 me and Chine Gun was packing dimes Coke spot I had at least hundred and a line Sell another brick and we copping twin fives
Writer(s): Demond Price, Alvin Lamar Worthy, Jeremie Scorpio Pennick, Clarence Scarborough, Christopher Martin Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out