制作

出演艺人
Grip
Grip
说唱
Royce Da 5'9"
Royce Da 5'9"
说唱
作曲和作词
Kyle Clow
Kyle Clow
作曲家
R. Montgomery
R. Montgomery
作曲家
Neal H. Pogue II
Neal H. Pogue II
作曲家
Eliot Dubock
Eliot Dubock
作曲家
制作和工程
Beat Butcha
Beat Butcha
制作人
Tú
制作人
John Kadadu
John Kadadu
混音工程师
Kyle Clow
Kyle Clow
录音工程师
R. Montgomery
R. Montgomery
录音工程师
Mike Bozzi
Mike Bozzi
母带工程师
Willy "Will" Yanez
Willy "Will" Yanez
制作人

歌词

[Verse 1]
Got a verbal machine gun, you never seen one
Vocab throw jabs, you thought a bee stung
You thought yo shit was heat, huh?
The fuck you get that beat from? Go get a refund
You gotta reload, infinite clips like I got the cheat code
Spittin' a brick like I copped from Chico
You wasn't in the mix, you watched through peephole
Starin' out the window, witnessin' livin' at a quicker tempo
But ain't no reset, this not Nintendo
Our life was preset, dark is a defect, you got the remote
You take yo seat yet? You get to see death all over C-notes
I ain't no preacher, don't be callin' me woke
Just ain't been sleep, yet this ain't for v-necks
Go get yo peacoat, I see yo feet cold
Just take a deep breath and watch me heat check all of your heroes
They didn't heal you, that's just placebo
I'm just a nappy headed negro aka reject, my alter ego
Get all the respect but if you see bro off in the streets bet yo ass would relapse
If you ain't know that he raps like fuck the verses, you'll clutch yo purses
My stream of income through a streamin' service
If you don't listen they gon' deem me worthless
So I need every purchase
That's why I'm steady workin'
I'ma heady person, so I go through dry spells, but this shit feel like a levee burstin'
Open the floodgates, they knew I was special after that snub tape
Just thought I'd touch base, this is the update
[Verse 2]
COVID constantly, code red boundaries, how could we
While gossipin', culturally grow responsibly?
Cops are the ops to me, cokeheads cop from me
Them hotels got me in protest consciously
Rolex watch on me, feds clockin' me, we own less
Property, atrocity, mo' debt, invest stock in the oppressed
Controllin' yo' net-profitin'
Told y'all 'bout them Jim Crow laws, that's more/less prophecy
My bars be trap, me car seat's back
Against odds, my cards be stacked, my Wall Street black
I dreamt all would pay me in health, it's degradin' to do pilates
Generationial wealth, **** say we Illuminati
To be religiously Christian versus dissettlement
Perfect embezzlement, bitch, we get in, worship the devil, rich
Melanin vibration indebted to God, gracious
They scared of Sanaa Lathan, genetic annihilation, uh
This ain't what B.I.G. meant when he came and kicked in your door
New whip for **** that walk, look rich for **** that's poor
You bang for **** that's soft, new chain for **** that floss
You sing for ****, that's God, you win for ****, that's lost all
Them too models come out with the see-through panties
I bleed blue Brandy and Art Basel by the Herbo Brantley's
[Verse 3]
I'm entitled to whites, so I got Harvard on my app
The ops just be callin' me light, then my Glock falls into my lap
Them execs suspended your record that'll send you a extra exorcism
So keep your respect, we just reap the regrets of nepotism
I'll dollar bill you or check, but you got to be specific
I got to keep you in check, so you got to be complicit
From A to Z, only you can compare with the streets
But only we can keep playin' musical chairs with the seats
[Verse 4]
Yeah, and I'm black so I got a target on my back
(**** where you at?) Atlanta, Georgia where I started on the map
Was bargainin' for scraps, they lethargic, I'm bargin' in fa racks
The margin is startlin', this who you thought was harder with the raps
What's the argument? Really ain't no guardin' him, in fact
I step back, let it fly I'm James Harden with the strap
Might just travel wit it, to get a shot off in the clutch
We both paid to be the boss but it ain't cost you as much
And even bosses get touched, so keep your head on a swivel
And pray you end up at the top and not dead in the middle
Out of towners pull up with diamonds and they bezel and dentals
Think shit sweet till lil' **** pump lead in ya rental
Got 'em duckin' shots, the juggernaut to stuff you in a fuckin' box
I just chucked the mud on top, you dug the plot
I tuck the Glock from which the slugs was popped that struck the ops
Who thought this shit was butterscotch, I'm finna crank this up a notch
Written by: Eliot Dubock, Kyle Clow, Neal H. Pogue II, Neal Harrington Pogue, R. Montgomery
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out

Loading...