Featured In
Similar Songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Toosii
Vocals
Dolph
Programming
PYROMAN
Programming
Rvssian
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Naujour Grainger
Songwriter
Nicolas Zita
Songwriter
Rodolfo Argueta
Songwriter
Tarik Johnston
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dolph
Producer
PYROMAN
Producer
Rvssian
Producer
Princston "Perfect Harmany" Terry
Mixing Engineer
Stephen "Dot Com" Farrow
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Thomas “Tillie” Mann
Mixing Engineer
Zach Schultze
Engineer
Lyrics
Pyroman
(Ayy, Rvssian)
Ye, bad b- and a mistress, know my main b- having misfits
Lane-switch when I ride, it's raining outside, I hope I don't hit s-
I'm a time bomb, n-, tick-tick, Richard Mille, that's some rich s-
F- a h- and you gon' tell the gang 'cause you a f- lame and that's some b- s-
Gucci denim, feel like Dapper Dan, know I'm the f- man, ain't gotta tell it
Pull up the Rolls Royce, that's a Cullinan
I know it smell like weed but I don't sell it
But still get a pack in and I mail it, I be on trap s- with three tellies
I bring a bad b- to the telly, she don't ask for the d-, then baby won't get it
Championship ring and I know what it bring
Couple bottles, some w-, and she riding on me
Don't like attention, I black out the windows then slide with extendos
We riding lowkey
N- be broke and plotting on me
N- be fake so watch your homies
I can't even lie, I'd rather be lonely in a whip with a b-, I watch her dome me
Whip matte-black, ride with the cutter
You let a n- done die with your brother
B- ain't s-, won't ride for another
Now I ain't s-, I lie, say I love her
B- ain't s-, I lie and say I love her
I can't cut ties with the butter
That leave you upset when you love 'em
I say f- that, just gun 'em, down
Bad b- and a mistress, know my main b- having misfits
Lane-switch when I ride, it's raining outside, I hope I don't hit s-
I'm a time bomb, n-, tick-tick, Richard Mille, that's some rich s-
F- a h- and you gon' tell the gang 'cause you a f- lame and that's some b- s-
Gucci denim, feel like Dapper Dan, know I'm the f- man, ain't gotta tell it
Pull up the Rolls Royce, that's a Cullinan, I know it smell like w- but I don't sell it
But still get a pack in and I mail it, I be on trap s- with three tellies
I bring a bad b- to the telly, she don't ask for the d-, then baby won't get it
I don't really sing, that's cap, I rap, but they say that I do so I tell 'em like f- it
I take a bitch to McDonald's and tell her to get what she want
And she better McLove it
If she ask my name, I'll tell her McLovin'
I don't make love, a n- be f-
She don't suck d-, a n- won't bust
She got on Michael Kors and I don't trust
I'ma be nasty, be disgusting
Still ride with the gang-gang
Free them boys out the chain gang
They ain't lost s- but they still tryna maintain
I'm a bad boy causing ruckus, uh, bro still tryna slang cane
F- bad b-, get money, better know the game, mane
Bad b- and a mistress, know my main b- having misfits
Lane-switch when I ride, it's raining outside, I hope I don't hit s-
I'm a time bomb, n-, tick-tick, Richard Mille, that's some rich s-
F- a h- and you gon' tell the gang 'cause you a f- lame and that's some b- s-
Gucci denim, feel like Dapper Dan, know I'm the f- man, ain't gotta tell it
Pull up the Rolls Royce, that's a Cullinan
I know it smell like weed but I don't sell it
But still get a pack in and I mail it, I be on trap s- with three tellies
I bring a bad b- to the telly, she don't ask for the d-, then baby won't get it
Writer(s): Tarik Luke Johnston, Rodolfo Argueta, Naujour Lazier Grainger, Nicolas David Zita
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