Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rittz
Rittz
Vocals
Shawty Fatt
Shawty Fatt
Vocals
Yelawolf
Yelawolf
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jerrico Horton
Jerrico Horton
Songwriter
Jonathan McCollum
Jonathan McCollum
Songwriter
Michael Atha
Michael Atha
Songwriter
William Washington
William Washington
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Daniel Watson
Daniel Watson
Recording Engineer
Matthew David Hayes
Matthew David Hayes
Mixing Engineer
Tom Baker
Tom Baker
Mastering Engineer
WLPWR
WLPWR
Producer

Lyrics

Yep, yep, yep, bitch I'm all about my (profit) Yep, yep, yep, don't even try to count my (profit) Yep, yep, yep, so stay the fuck up out my (profit) Yep, yep, yep, yep, yeah I got my buddies on the corner, in the back of the club with a sack And they rolling up a jointer, smoking that country stash You ain't never seen a bull rider bumping UGK Nah homie, you ain't never seen that Fuck it, [?] Like a bucket seat Hip hop make em all lean back Make a ping pong ball jealous of the bounce Chevrolet sitting tall like a cloud Yeah, pick another trailer park girl up Dirty blonde digger, ding dong, get out Yeah, Imma let the lid out, fuck puffing in this jar, lightning bug Southern hospitality, but I hospitalize you cause I'm nice enough To spot a punk like a homophobic I'm on it, my opponents know it Get your money up D-boy I ain't a D-boy, but my folks they grow it Done clipped the bud and done sold it I been sipping Bud, you ain't noticed? I'm in the bible belt like a church, in the lobby With an offering tray for that profit Let me get started Targeting artists, ain't no dodging em, lodging them Cause they fraudulous, yeah, my ho might been sporting shit No tours and shit, no super Nintendo, but I got cartridges Cartman shit, working my big old tool like I know carpentry Pardon me it's the, nigga you know me, the hottest commodity Probably catch me posted at penny province in poverty Cause they copping it, stopping me, nope No [?] copping me, nope P O T B E L L, why the hell they riding my tail? I'll slow it down a minute (what?) Cause I ain't been around a minute These niggas feeling themselves cause I let em borrow the crown a minute And I'll admit I get beside myself sometimes Only cause I know I got dope rhymes And my punch lines will fuck wit yo mind I'm bucking, bout my I am a real Slumerican Told Yelawolf he can swear me in I got a heavy double barrel in my box Chevy When my album drop, everybody scared again And I'm prepared to win at all costs Y'all talk a lot of shit, tryna tear my skin And rumor has it I'm crazy, I need to see a therapist Well if the shoe fits, fuck it Imma wear it then Cause I'm a go getter, I would swear for ten I'm bout to turn up like a sombrero rim I'm kinda like a modern day Larry Flynt It's Slum shit, baby fuck Katy Perry fans I rep Atlanta, I ain't never been to Paris, France I switch lanes, crossing over like I'm Jeremy Lin You can't admire me, don't let me catch you staring pimp I'm like a great white shark in this aquarium When I was young, I knew kids out caroling Around the holidays, they were pistol carrying In the spare, getting paper was imperative Reaching in my pocket, only thing there was lint Well I compare with then, don't want to spare a cent We suited up in all black, in a pair of tens I ran up in a local baller's house, I lay it down Motherfucker, show me where it is I'm bout to take that profit
Writer(s): Michael Wayne Atha, William Booker Washington, Jerrico Horton, Jonathan Mccollum Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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