Top Songs By Bino Rideaux
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bino Rideaux
Vocals
BlueBucksClan DJ
Vocals
Jeeezy
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Brandon Rainey
Songwriter
Robert A. Morris
Songwriter
Deon Hawkins
Songwriter
Jabar Abrams
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
RoMo
Producer
William Binderup
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
Turn they back on me, I ain't even trip (I ain't even trip)
Yeah, we gone keep grindin' like the fuckin' clips
(Like the fuckin' clips)
Niggas yellin' out they real, (Romo) then be fake as shit
(Fake as hell)
How you look me in my eyes and you tellin' lies (damn)
Let a bad bitch drive while I rub her thighs (yeah)
We keep pullin' up with sticks like we goin' blind
(Like we goin' blind)
We them niggas punchin' in on the goal line (goal line)
I just spilt my whole cup fuckin' up my high
(Fuckin' up my high)
Weak bitches at the stoop fuckin' up my vibe (bitch)
How I feel about my niggas words can't describe (on God)
We be deep up in them trenches
Tryin' to stay alive (stay alive)
Yeah, once you cross that line
Ain't no comin' back (ain't no comin' back)
I might fuck that bitch once bet not get attached (no Lord)
Dior on my feet Gucci on my back (Gucci on my back)
Like a badass kid, shit don't even match
Whoa
This that vibe, don't kill it
Take that bitch to breakfast in my hood, she gotta feel it
I was one hundred with all them niggas
When they was kickin' it
Sippin drank like Wheezy
In the coupe, no ceilings
Pocket got a cashball in it
We been shoppin' where the white folks at
Tryin' to fit in
I, I'll do Gucci with the Dior
I ain't even trippin' like that
See I been sleepin' through the day
Workin' night shift (night shift)
Wish little bro could post the bail but he flight risk
(Flight risk)
They play my music videos in indictments
Fendi socks finna pull up on my overnight bitch
I love the Rollins and I love Pooh 'cause that's who made me
Talkin' 'bout my daughter when I put Gucci on my baby (my baby)
Make her wake up in the mornin' thinkin' 'bout me daily (daily)
And in my city niggas shootin'
Ain't no fadin' just let it bang him, yeah
Me and all my niggas on
We got rankin', yeah
Talkin' 'bout it's up we gone leave him plankin'
Big drac', but I let it spit like Dave East, yeah
Big chop singin' like Jojo and K-ci, ayy
My bitch go to college
Look like Raven Tracy
One fifty with the roof down like fuck a AC, ayy
I ain't hate them niggas, shorty
Niggas hatin' me, yeah
Real nigga hard to face me
'Cause them niggas ain't me
Ah
This that vibe, don't kill it
Take that bitch to breakfast in my hood, she gotta feel it
I was one hundred with all them niggas
When they was kickin' it
Sippin' drank like Wheezy
In the coupe no ceilings
Pocket got a cashball in it
We been shoppin' where the white folks at
Tryin' to fit in
I, I'll do Gucci with the Dior
I ain't even trippin' like that, for real son
Mixin' Gucci with Dior, I don't trip none (trip none)
Mixin' Prada with the Louis
This shit gettin' fun (this shit fun)
'Member walkin' through the mall
I couldn't get none (I was broke)
Now I'm finna be my momma first rich son (rich)
This that breakfast in the hood come get some
(Come get some)
Take a boogie bitch to town tell her pick some
(Bitch, pick some)
Dice game on the porch, bet I hit some (bet I hit)
Buss clan we just scored, yeah, we really up (we up)
Half a pound in the club, yeah, that's really us (that's us)
They just said ain't no smokin'
We just lit it up (still smokin')
When I shop if I like it, I just pick it up (just grab it)
Double S with the 'Venchy
I don't give a fuck (I don't give a fuck)
Double R Cullinan, behind a Bentley truck (big four)
Lot of grams in my 'Wood ain't no skinny blunts (big grams)
Lot of blues in my pocket I got plenty bucks (I got blues)
Want to hang with the clan get your benjies up (get yo blues)
With another nigga bitch finna live it up (live it up)
Eatin' waffles in a foreign roll the window up (roll it up)
Spillin' syrup on my pants in a Bentley truck (goddamn)
Niggas hatin', niggas plottin'
We don't give a fuck (nigga, nah)
Walkin' in the club, we don't need no ids (hell nah)
Black bitch high as fuck, she look Chinese (look Chinese)
Drink a fifth to myself, yeah, don't mind me
(Yeah, don't mind me)
Race it to a forty piece, nigga, time me
(Nigga time me, nigga time me)
Writer(s): Roberto Carlos, Erasmo Carlos
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