Müzik Videosu
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Benzer Şarkılar
Krediler
PERFORMING ARTISTS
BROCKHAMPTON
Performer
Goldwash
Piano
Jabari Manwarring
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Matthew Champion
Composer
Russell Boring
Composer
Ian Simpson
Composer
Ciarán McDonald
Composer
Isaiah Merriweather
Composer
Romil Hemnani
Composer
Jabari Manwarring
Composer
Baird Acheson
Composer
Gabriel Acheson
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Russell Boring
Producer
Goldwash
Additional Producer
Romil Hemnani
Recording Engineer
Jabari Manwarring
Producer
Video Store
Producer
Baird Acheson
Producer
Dom McLennon
Additional Producer
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Mixing Engineer
Curtis "Sircut" Bye
Mixing Engineer
Jacob Bryant
Assistant Engineer
Mike Bozzi
Mastering Engineer
Şarkı sözleri
All-American self-hatred runs deep
White boys all I see whenever I sleep
Niggas think I think these thoughts on purpose
But I knew 'bout NSYNC 'fore cash could rule me
Colonized minds by masters and slaves
They both hate niggas, that like niggas that sing
Homophobic, I tried to gang-bang
I tried to get laid, I had to get paid
Hopped off the ship, I land on my feet
In Corpus Christi I got my own street
Running this shit like it's a track meet
I had to go back home, I seen too many niggas die in a week
Now get my dawgs black wealth, let 'em live well
What a miracle we dreamed a million stories to tell
You are now tuned in, baby to the new classic
New machine, keep the beats, keep 'em dancing
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party, please
Please, don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party, please
Please, don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up my party, please
Please (please, please), please (please, please)
This a jam for your whims and your woes
For the people in the back standin' on they tippy-toes
Don't give a damn what the journalist wrote
Always dead inside like they in the catacombs
On the prowl like a lion in the storm
Watchin' for the prey that might slit his throat
It's about time that I let your ass know
Ya'll deserved the guillotine even more (oh, oh)
Kiss my ass, treat my balls like it's mistletoe
Fuck class, get cash by the truckload
Latest album with my dawgs, but the city closed
You in for a hell of a ride (oh, oh)
This a good time, know I'm damn right
Order every single bottle of the best wine
Fuck your final, need it all though
Dedicate this to my family in Chicago
Stay down, I'm sorry
Stay down, you're ugly (oh, oh)
The people need more than money
These white people don't love me (oh, oh)
Stay down, I'm sorry
Stay down, I'm hungry (oh, oh)
Don't need you to love me
Fuck you, come fuck me
I know
Don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party, please
Please, don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up the party, please
Please, don't shoot up the party
Don't shoot up my party, please
Please (please, please), please (please, please)
What's the issue?
Why you gotta grab that pistol?
Think about who gon' miss you
Never know what I been through
What's the issue?
Why you gotta grab that pistol?
Think about who gon' miss you
Never know what they might do
Don't shoot up the party, don't shoot up the p-
Do you really wanna try to step to?
Do you really wanna try to step to?
Oh, yeah
Writer(s): Isaiah Merriweather, Gabriel Acheson, Baird Robert Wittner Acheson, Ian Simpson, Ciaran Mcdonald, Matthew Garrett Champion, Romil Hemnani, Jabari Manwarring, Russell Evan Boring
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com