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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Nudy
Young Nudy
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Quantavious T. Thomas
Quantavious T. Thomas
Songwriter
Edward Maclin Cooper III
Edward Maclin Cooper III
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Coupe
Coupe
Producer
Alverne "Verne" Emmanuel
Alverne "Verne" Emmanuel
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

You fuck niggas better stand the fuck up For your motherfuckin' zone, you bitch You ain't stand up for what you doin' Then nigga, what the fuck you doin' it for, fuck nigga? Fuck wrong with you, nigga? And you gotta feed your family regardless, fuck nigga You know me, huh? (COUPE) Y'all niggas be talkin' too much, I don't do that You know what's up with me, nigga, yeah EA them, haha, slime, SB, yeah, PDE Run like a track meet, I chase you down, bitch nigga How do I feel? Like hittin' a stick, I might just kill a nigga (yeah) Kill him and his partner evidence, you know I spin, nigga (yeah) Get rid of rich niggas, yeah, I take shit, nigga (uh-huh) Never been a hater, I make money, I'm a motivator Fuckin' all these bitches 'cause they fuck with me 'cause I got paper And exotic in my body, smokin' on Miyagi (ooh) And I'm choppin' up this brick likе I do karate (do karate) I might trick a country boy and sell him Clеan, nigga, I got it (nigga, I got it) So much baking soda in that shit You know I love the profit (yeah, yeah) And I like to stack up all this shit And add it up, I got it (yeah, I got it) Two months, bitch I just made 'bout five hundred thousand (five hundred thousand) That's just off features, bitch Now don't think we is equal (we not equal) I just made 'bout one-fifty off of reefer (yeah) And I smoke it, I'm a chiefer (yeah) And I put my army on a lick, gotta feed my people (yeah, yeah) When it come to that money, you know I am evil (uh-huh) Stick talk, the grim reaper (stick talk) Sweep you off your feet, I like that street sweeper (street sweeper) In your dreams with MAC-90s, jeepers creepers (uh-huh) Smoke your ass just like this reefer (smoke you) 9-1-1, he tryna call them people, popped at all his people Showed that motherfucker we not beefin' You know how we eatin' (how we eatin') I don't like to beef with pussy niggas If I ain't got no reason (got no reason) Shoot you in your heart, no cock-back Pussy nigga, know I squeeze it (uh-uh) I don't need no backup, thirty round, yes, I do keep it (do keep it) Take me a deep breath, exhale, start squeezin' (baow) Shoot that motherfucker 'til I see that nigga not breathin' And I put on stunna frames so these niggas cannot see me (yeah) Sit behind this black tint, black stick get to squeezin' (yeah) Thinkin' 'bout some crazy shit, take somethin', nigga, know we beefin' Nigga took somethin' from me, dawg, it's smoke, nigga, at Four Season Shout out to the Hamp, they the only gang I know that squeezed it We were beefin' for no reason They went down the street, we like "Fuck that shit, let's get to squeezin'" Now we strike the beef, we eatin' And I fuck with a couple real Crip niggas from Four Season And my dawgs, they passed on Boulevard, gang out for no reason And we from the Eastside and we handle straps, you better believe it Thirty on us, nigga can see Throw this shit up, big-ass B Throwin' up the pyramid You know where I'm from, I'm PDE 'Til the day I D-I-E You niggas cannot fuck with me (yeah, yeah, yeah) And I got your bitch, she on my T-I-P (yeah, yeah, yeah) Rubber on, no Eazy E (damn) Bitches know it's M-O-E (What?) I ain't stuntin' no M-O-B Money over everything when this shit come to me I just made 'bout one-fifty off of reefer (yeah) And I smoke it, I'm a chiefer (yeah) And I put my army on a lick, gotta feed my people (yeah, yeah) When it come to that money, you know I am evil (uh-huh) Stick talk, the grim reaper (stick talk) Sweep you off your feet, I like that street sweeper (street sweeper) In your dreams with MAC-90s, jeepers creepers (uh-huh) Smoke your ass just like this reefer (smoke you) 9-1-1, he tryna call them people, popped at all his people Showed that motherfucker we not beefin' You know how we eatin' (how we eatin') I don't like to beef with pussy niggas If I ain't got no reason (got no reason)
Writer(s): Quantavious Tavario Thomas, Edward Maclin Cooper Iii Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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