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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
YFN Lucci
Vocals
ProdByDMac
Programming
TntXD
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rayshawn Lamar Bennett
Songwriter
David Hutchison McDowell
Songwriter
Thomas Horton
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
John Horesco
Mastering Engineer
Keith Dawson
Mixing Engineer
ProdByDMac
Producer
TntXD
Producer
Lyrics
Pipe that shit up TnT
Dmac on the fuckin' track
I say, uh, oh, yeah, look
In the back of the Benz, I just got it painted
The grill gold-plated, my crib still gated
But we ain't used to have not a dollar, who gon' take it
Robberies in Grand Theft Auto, I can't fake it
They told me don't be trippin' about it, I can't save it
A whole lotta bring problems
But if a nigga play, we gon' get him murdered tomorrow
Wanna see me demonstrate?
'87 tea top Cultey, put it on the interstate
Solitaire, DO, they can't even see my face
These hoes they want me to chase
I don't keep my sneakers laced
I don't ride [?] my key can't go to no valet
Flew my cars out to LA
I saw so many posin' and bitch we gon' need to vacate
We been off for some decades
Look, smokin' grade A, but in school I got low grades
Get that boy a box of perfume, he got [?]
Look, throw that boy a 7.62, we don't throw shade
I hope everyone don't hit you, not partly
Look, I'ma die, in these Cuban links, I feel like [?]
Walk through 'em, want me to call through, that's a role
Look, what you gonna do when the money through, shorty
Don't keep tellin' me what you gon' do for me
Okay, yeah, only talk about shit that I go through, I ain't phony
You gon' do, what The Who, I ain't homie
Lab man, he got [?] by the
I ain't no cappin', I spent you advance on little homie
We gon' get it [?] we don't land til the morning, huh
Matter fact, gon' hit 'em up while I'm performin', huh
I just got another grill, call me George Foreman, huh
I just got another mil' and I ain't even hungry, huh
Are you niggar, do it, bitch you worser than a woman, huh
Anybody get it nigga, show me my opponent, huh
I be in the newest shit, I introduce you to this
I put you on my shooter list, fuck it, let me do the bitch
I been goin' through some shit, flip out, give the Juul a hit
On the one like Chris child, we don't sip on no Christ style
I remember ridin' 'round in that bucket
When we was in that Nissan, they didn't give me nothin'
When I was fucked up my own bitch wouldn't even love me
When I ain't have my swagger right the hoe wouldn't even fuck me
I be on some feed the fam shit, I know my momma proud of me
I know that cuck real good, I just can't put down the shit
I do it real big, but they don't acknowledge it
Look at where I live
You know I cash that on it, a condo and a crib
I pay more than 1.5 for it
Every day I spend some shit, every thing I'm in be lit
Everything I thing about it, I be tryna spend some shit
Long live all of my niggas where we done came
Hater, I gotta talk to you in the graveyard
Writer(s): Rayshawn Bennett, Thomas Horton, David K. Mcdowell
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