Music Video

Travis Scott - Lost Forever OG Version ft. James Blake & Westside Gunn [Extended Outro]
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Travis Scott
Travis Scott
Vocals
Westside Gunn
Westside Gunn
Vocals
James Blake
James Blake
Vocals
Chuck Senrick
Chuck Senrick
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jacques Bermon Webster II
Jacques Bermon Webster II
Songwriter
James Litherland
James Litherland
Songwriter
Alvin Worthy
Alvin Worthy
Songwriter
Dominic Maker
Dominic Maker
Songwriter
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Songwriter
Douglas Ford
Douglas Ford
Songwriter
Elliott Baker
Elliott Baker
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Travis Scott
Travis Scott
Producer
James Blake
James Blake
Producer
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer
Dominic Maker
Dominic Maker
Producer
MIKE DEAN
MIKE DEAN
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Have you ever been lost? Have you ever been lost? Forever Lost on islands, driven in boat cars Just bring your girl, feel like she both ours Young black nigga work at the Auchans (Auchans) So how we here trapped on the ocean? 'Bout to go up a level of disrespectful I'm just one chain away from goin' heavy metal I'm just one angel away from blockin' out the devil Just one mountain away from meetin' all my rebels Too much power, too many hours all in a day I sent her flowers, ain't talkin roses, I'm talkin' maoda Ask if she "Ha-ha-ha", I really doubt it (ha-ha-ha) Took her through the Hills at noon, she felt the- (And how wonderful, how wonderful) Baby girl think she in Honolu' (wonderful) Don't you know you in the I-5 loop? (How wonderful) How many chickens fit in the coupe? (Fit in the coupe, fit in the coupe) (how wonderful, wonderful) Wonderful, she don't wanna leave She jump up, bounce back like trampoline (have you ever been lost?) (Like trampoline, like trampoline, like trampoline, like trampoline) Ayo, whip the cocaine 'til the pot bust ('til the pot bust, ah) You was on the porch, I was locked up (I was locked up, ah) Two-tone Maybach truck with the Maxwells (skrrt, Maxwells) Think a nigga shot somethin' (ah) Put it to your face, watch a motherfucker blow (boo-boo-boo-boo-boom) Daytona, different color face on the road (ah) Ten on his head, he be dead by the mornin' (by the mornin') I can get dirty for the stove (ah) Dior trench shit hang to the floor (ah) Dior goggles, I ain't playin' with you hoes (uh-uh) Out in South Beach with the poles in the Rolls (skrrt, boo-boo-boo-boo-boom) Good to see ya dudes, alligators on the toes (ah) (On the toes, on the toes, on the toes) Fashion week, I'ma strut too, bitches (ah) Hundred-round drum, make a nigga go get it (make a nigga go get it, grrt) Tribe go to sell a fifth, bucket while we drillin' (boo-boo-boo-boo-boom) Had to sneak my new Glock up in Lenox (ah) Free Sly Green, he got Wayne Perry digits Socks Burberry, dick sucks on the visit (ah, brrrt) First one to pop, first to earn the stripes (stripes) Three strikes in, 25 to life (uh-uh) Hyping up the building, hyping up the sights (sights) Whips got the wings of angel kit I been wanting this shit my whole life, I didn't pray for it She want me to come into his house, but I can't kick it She want the whole dub-dub E, but I ain't convinced Never met her she, but she met Sheck, she don't need a prince Took her off the O into the D, she ain't take offense Way we got it bouncin' off the boards we making prints Wait until I step into the floor and then they commence
Writer(s): Douglas Ford, Jacques Webster, James Litherland, Maman Alan, Alvin Worthy, Elliott Baker Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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