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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Gym Class Heroes
Performer
Andre Lyon
Background Vocals
Disashi Lumumba-Kasongo
Guitar
Eric Roberts
Bass Guitar
Matt McGinley
Drums
Travie McCoy
Vocals
Seamus Harte
Guitar
E. Montilla
Piano
Tyler Winick
Guitar
Cool & Dre
Other Instrument
Adam MacDougal
Organ
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Andre Lyon
Songwriter
Busta Rhymes
Songwriter
Disashi Lumumba-Kasongo
Songwriter
Eric Roberts
Songwriter
Matt McGinley
Songwriter
Travie McCoy
Songwriter
E. Montilla
Songwriter
Marcello Valenzano
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Gym Class Heroes
Additional Producer
Cool & Dre
Producer
Shaun Evans
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Gina Victoria
Recording Engineer
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Neal Pogue
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
Gym Class Heroes, Cool and Dre
(This is)
You silly for this one, it's Travie
(Why you doin' this to me?)
I started rappin' back in the class, scribbling tracks
In hopes that one of my jokes, I had the pretty young things laughin'
The chubby little bastard with a knack for little Debbie snacks
But what I lacked in looks I made up for it in passion
No advance and plus we make it happen
In your conscience more obnoxious
Then that laughy Taffy snappin'
Goodbye yesterday's rags, hello, high fashion
Hands before you's a man that built a castle with sand
With no regards for tidal waves and finally established
Till the water comes in gallon drums and wipes away my palace
But now I'm sittin' lovely off in wonderland with Alice
With purple people passin' me at the caterpillar's chalice
Ha, ha, you probably thinking
I'm wrong, right? Like I should quit
Writing these songs, right?
Tell you what do it better, I just might
Take it back to eighty six, you wanna lick, sike
Don't let the TV mislead you
Me and you, dude, we are not equal
Fuck you, this is for my people
Fuck you, this is for my people
Don't try to hide like I can't see you
Your parents must've been trans and so see through
Fuck you, this is for my people
Fuck you, this is for my people
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Before I utter words and before I start to begin
Let me make sure you clear I'm about securing the wind
I puzzle up my words while I piece another concoction
'Cause I'm stubborn with the thought that failure was never an option
I grinds like a carpenter until my caleceous's bleed
With the passion from my heart to the many mouths that I feed
That's why I look at most of you stupid I know it's odd
Because you can't really do nuttin' to me unless you God
But bein' that none of you ain't him
You can't fuck with me, now watch me erase them
Now trust me, see, I'm so determined
I'm walkin' through the heap of gauntlets while the fire is burnin'
Or how the tires turning on the rim of the V
I laugh and shake it off the shit they be doin' to me
With all the yappin' and talking and so and so
Think that you can ever stop the kid, oh no
So if you get in my way, you know you're done, son
You best believe what I say, you better run, son
Fuck you because I do this for my loved ones
Fuck you because I do this for my loved ones
You better kneel down and pray 'cause where I come from
We goin' hard everyday, that's how the fight's won
Fuck you because I do this for my loved ones
Fuck you because I do this for my loved ones
Put up the peace sign, put the index down
Put up the peace sign, put the index down
Put up the peace sign, put the index down
Put up the peace sign, put the index down
Look, mom, no hands
Yer little boy's a man
(Yeah, damn)
Everything you said is finally settin' in
Trainin' wheels fell off and I kept peddling
Now I'm ridin' wheelies on this industry
Say the word, I'll ghost ride this bitch instantly
Good lookin' pop on the strength that you givin' me
Wasn't for you Gym Class would be history
I'm on my upstate shit
I was Brooklyn broke but now I'm upstate rich
Gettin' brains from two dames with French accents
Now I mess with local chicks, I get 'em upstate shit
You prob'ly thinking I'm wrong, right?
Like I should quit writin' these songs, right?
Tell you what, do it better I just might
Take it back to eighty six, you want a lick, sike
Now it's a lot of y'all that can't stand me
'Cause my resemblance to Prince is uncanny
But fuck you, this is for my family
Fuck you, this is for my family
Upstate New York to Miami
Up late recording in my jammies
I do it for my family
Fuck you, this is for my family
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Put up your peace sign, put your index down
Writer(s): Andre Christopher Lyon, Marcello Valenzano, Matthew Mcginley, Travis L. Mccoy, Disashi Lumumba-kasongo, Edward John Montilla
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