Top Songs By Young Dolph
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Dolph
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Adolph Thornton
Songwriter
Michael len Williams
Songwriter
Samuel Gloade
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
30 Roc
Producer
Ari Morris
Mixing Engineer
Mike WiLL Made-It
Producer
Lyrics
Ayy
Real drippy right now
Lil' mama got ass for days, and I got cash for days
That fake shit, I can't relate
Hate, I see it all over his face (damn)
Yeah I got racks in the safe
Yeah I'm fuckin' on your bae
Never keep dope where you lay
Keep a draco or an AK
Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag)
Drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag)
Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip)
Drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy
Prometh, sippin'
My bitch she gettin' tipsy
Valentino my outfit, my bitch she rockin' Fendi (drippy)
Too much ice, it might make you dizzy
Diamonds, hittin'
Dead fresh, dig me (drippy)
Drippy, drippy
You a peasant, you cannot come near me (uhuh)
Heard a fuck nigga wanna kill me
'Cause I treat his baby mama like a frisbee, yeah
Fuck nigga, try again
You lose, I win
Shoot him in the ass, again
Pray for my enemies, amen
The realest nigga in it, ayy man
Shit, this young nigga poppin', damn
Nah, can't no nigga stop him
Paper Route, we stand on top of shit
Pull up in your city, we rockin' shit
I'm in the streets where the hitters at
I'm in the street where the dealers at
I'm in the section where all the bad bitches at
Lil' mama got ass for days, and I got cash for days
That fake shit, I can't relate
Hate, I see it all over his face (damn)
Yeah I got racks in the safe
Yeah I'm fuckin' on your bae
Never keep dope where you lay
Keep a draco or an AK
Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag)
Drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag)
Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip)
Drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy
I used to want a million then I wanted ten now I want a 100
All my bitches got an onion, private jet out the country (let's go)
Just to go shop and eat lunch
Foreign hoes, I got a bunch
Codeine (what else?), sweet tea (what's that?), call that a tropical punch (okay)
I mix the Gelato with the lemon tree, call that a tropical blunt
I give that green light and you done
Ayy come here lil' mama, where you from? (Ey, what's up?)
All of that ass, you the bomb
All of that ass, you the bomb
Now take this money, get on the plane
I need you to go get a bomb
I put her in Yves Saint Laurent
I put 70 thou in my charm
I put 50 grams in my trunk
I was sellin' dope, I ain't go to prom (Damn, I wish I cloud've went to prom)
But I get rich anyway so motherfuck the prom
Drippy, drippy
Lil' mama got ass for days, and I got cash for days
That fake shit, I can't relate
Hate, I see it all over his face (damn)
Yeah I got racks in the safe
Yeah I'm fuckin' on your bae
Never keep dope where you lay
Keep a draco or an AK
Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag)
Drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (swag)
Drippy (drippy), drippy (drip), drippy (drip), drippy (drip)
Drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy (swag), drippy (drip), drippy
Writer(s): Michael Len Williams, Samuel Gloade, Adolph Thornton
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