Featured In
Similar Songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Birdman
Vocals
Roddy Ricch
Vocals
Lil Wayne
Vocals
Awaz Beatz
Programming
D Roc
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bryan Christopher Williams
Songwriter
Rodrick Moore
Songwriter
Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.
Songwriter
Daniel Lebrun
Songwriter
Timur Saifullin
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Awaz Beatz
Co-Producer
Fareed “Rip” Salamah
Mixing Engineer
Hershey Blakk
Mixing Engineer
Manny Galvez
Recording Engineer
17ondatrack
Co-Producer
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
D Roc
Producer
Lyrics
D-Roc
I bought a white Bentayga
Had to creep through the night in the spaceship
We was runnin' outside from the jake
Now I put a lot of ice in the face, huh
Keep a lot of shooters in the cut, cut
And I got a ride with the tuck-up, huh
Gave a hundred racks to my brother, huh
Pop out the check, I'ma fuck up, huh
Uh, and I got the whole hood on go
Look at my neck, my wrist, my pinky, all froze
Stunnaman, stunnaman, stunnaman
Drip, drip, down to my toes
Still pull up in the Rolls, Rolls
Got a Ferrari when I drive through the hills
All of my niggas outside, for real
I'm 'bout to shit on niggas, diarrhea
It's a lot of fake niggas, I'ma die real
I'll be hanging outside with guerillas
Lost my dawg, wanna die with my niggas
Niggas rather be fly than realer
And if the opps wanna slide, get hit up
I'm in the gang for the dirty, dirty
My right hand keep a .30 clip
I done did some time with the murderers
I ain't gotta shine on purpose, huh
Plot 'em every time I put up (put up)
Trap house lookin' like a cookout (cookout)
He was creepin' up, get the red dot, headshot
I bought a white Bentayga
Had to creep through the night in the spaceship
We was runnin' outside from the jake
Now I put a lot of ice in the face, huh
Keep a lot of shooters in the cut, cut
And I got a ride with the tuck-up, huh
Gave a hundred racks to my brother, huh
Pop out the check, I'ma fuck up, huh
Uh, and I got the whole hood on go
Look at my neck, my wrist, my pinky, all froze
Stunnaman, stunnaman, stunnaman
Drip, drip, down to my toes
Still pull up in the Rolls, Rolls (Stunna, yeah, Rich Gang)
Cap a slingshot on 80 shit
Cherry wood in all my whips
Do it big, that label shit
Created shit but stayed hood rich (stayed rich)
That's how we lace this shit
Get money, stay break a bitch
At the top of the hill, another shootout
With a hundred mil', we wave that shit (we wave that shit)
Chanel bag, jewelries be hundreds or mo' (hundreds or mo')
And I got my whole hood on go (hood on go)
Bird call, I hate a lace, then got ghost (got ghost)
Rich nigga, Roberto Cavalli, marble floors
I bought a white Bentayga
Had to creep through the night in the spaceship
We was runnin' outside from the jake
Now I put a lot of ice in the face, huh
Keep a lot of shooters in the cut, cut
And I got a ride with the tuck-up, huh
Gave a hundred racks to my brother, huh
Pop out the check, I'ma fuck up, huh
Uh, and I got the whole hood on go
Look at my neck, my wrist, my pinky, all froze
Stunnaman, stunnaman, stunnaman
Drip, drip, down to my toes
Still pull up in the Rolls, Rolls
Uh, stunnaman, stunnaman, bulletproof Cullinan
Chrome Heart bust, now I weigh it underhand
Spent a couple hunnid bands, that was just for the band
Put a dirty hundred grand up in the laundry bag
'Bout to pop another Xan', 'bout to smoke a hundred grams
I'ma be who I am, you are not what I am
Lit like the light at the end of the tunnel, man
But the light just might be a train comin', man
I had to spend some money to win some money
I had the rooftop down but still had the tits up on it
Weed so good, I taste up on it
Lit hoe tryna inch up on me while my bitch up on me
Rose gold looking like ketchup on me
I let that choppa ring, my holy matrimony
All red like Patrick, homie
Redbone, got her lashes on me
I can't even sleep tight without a million cash inside the mattress, homie
Told bae I'm in the booth, you gon' have to play with the pussy on FaceTime
Just found out the President I voted for was already dead, slime (yeah)
I bought a white Bentayga
Had to creep through the night in the spaceship
We was runnin' outside from the jake
Now I put a lot of ice in the face, huh
Keep a lot of shooters in the cut, cut
And I got a ride with the tuck-up, huh
Gave a hundred racks to my brother, huh
Pop out the check, I'ma fuck up, huh
Uh, and I got the whole hood on go
Look at my neck, my wrist, my pinky, all froze
Stunnaman, stunnaman, stunnaman
Drip, drip, down to my toes
Still pull up in the Rolls, Rolls
Writer(s): Bryan Williams, Dewayne Carter, Rodrick Moore, Daniel Lebrun, Sven Rafael Steenbergen, Timur Saifullin, Bornot Lebrun
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