Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Donald Bailey Jr.
Donald Bailey Jr.
Songwriter
Bryson Potts
Bryson Potts
Songwriter
Johnathan Michael Porter
Johnathan Michael Porter
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Midas 800
Midas 800
Producer

Lyrics

I wish everything I touch would turn to gold NLE, you heard me Baby Mexico Choppa man, top shotta Baby Mexico shotta We finna talk our shit, you heard me Why not? Yeah Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah I am a menace, keep me a rack just like tennis I'm with the shit like I'm Dennis I started this shit, I'ma finish Niggas be hatin', tryna blemish my image Who want the smoke? .223 came with the scope Extended clip long as a rope We wipe his nose, just like he had him a cold I knew that boy was a hoe Pull up with the gang, you know that we bangin' What is your set, nigga? What is you claimin'? I am a beast, you cannot tame it Don't point the finger, this shit can get dangerous These niggas hatin', these niggas plottin' Ooh, he got money, I'm runnin' his wallet You say you a killer, lil' nigga stop it In a shoot out, your gun was droppin' You really a fraud You cannot stomp on his yard My nigga they scammin', they swipin' them cards I am so high that I'm talking' to stars I'm gone off them jiggas, I'm poppin' them bars Don't mind my pimpin', bitch, don't sweat me Choppa got a kick, call that shit Jet Li Sauce gang drip though, what is your recipe? Don't get a F if a nigga try to testin' me Whole lotta money, whole lotta guala Hit the party 50 deep, nun' but my shotta Nigga tried me, so you know I had to pop him So many bullets, it confused the doctor Whole lotta racks, whole lotta stacks Fuck a headshot, I'ma shoot him in the back 3.5 rolled up in the cack We don't smoke Reggie, this shit called gas I'm sticked up, like a blind man I'm super hot, like a frying pan He said that he gon' take some from me Ayy, just know, he lyin' man I'ma up from my hip then blow like a whistle Your bitch suckin' dick like a Kool-Aid pickle Two bullets in your chest, that's a nipple And if a nigga run up, I'ma pop him like a pimple Get rich or die tryin', I'm feelin' like 50 Brand new choppa got double d titties Niggas don't play me, I don't get silly Love all the beef like a southwest Philly, yeah Yeah, love all the beef like a southwest deli, yeah Ayy, bitch, love all the beef like a southwest deli I might just OD, Percs killin' me slowly Feelin' like I'm Kobe, can't ner' nigga hol' me If he wanna run up on me, shoot 'em like Ginobili And I'm with the shit lil' homie, yeah, like I'm Toby, yeah And I'm with the shit lil' homie, yeah, like I'm Toby, yeah Bitch! Finna ad-lib, keep all that (Like a school shooter, like I'm Toby, yeah) Keep all that Tay, yeah (Huh, huh) (This shit straight drop, lil' nigga, no cut) Ayy Tay, keep all that (Straight drop, lil' nigga, no cut) Keep all that, yeah, yeah (Up from my hip, yeah)
Writer(s): Brytavious Lakeith Chambers, Dameon Sean Hughes, Bryson Lashun Potts, Xavier Barrios, Donald Bernard Bailey Jr Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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