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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Yebba
Background Vocals
Smino
Lead Vocals
James Francies
Keyboards
Questlove
Drums
Pino Palladino
Bass
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Abbey Smith
Songwriter
James Francies
Songwriter
Kamaal Fareed
Songwriter
Christopher Smith Jr.
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Smino
Recording Engineer
James Francies
Additional Producer
Mark Ronson
Producer
DJ Dahi
Additional Producer
Riccardo Damian
Recording Engineer
Jens Jungkurth
Recording Engineer
Zach Brown
Assistant Engineer
Carl Bespolka
Assistant Engineer
John Rooney
Assistant Engineer
Tom Elmhirst
Mixing Engineer
Elton "L10MixedIt" Chueng
Mixing Engineer
Randy Merrill
Mastering Engineer
Kurtis Mckenzie
Producer
Matthew "Young Matt" Scatchell
Assistant Engineer
Yebba
Producer
Lyrics
You
It was a stormy winter
I watched the city burn
And ever since I can remember
That's just the way it hurts
And it goes on, and on, and on
Like I can never see the pinnacle of it all
Put it in my Louie bag, don't let it overflow
Move it in, ship it out, tell me if they want some more (some more)
'Cause I got that fire, it's coming for them now
Friends are falling off, talking shit for no reason
Checking all my locks 'cause it's robbing season now
La-da-da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da, da
And they cut my palms with paper
Made from her autumn leaves
I'm bleeding out disclaimеrs
Into my family tree
Fuck the interviews to еnterprise
I'd rather look into my mother's eyes
And let it be
Let it be, yeah
Put it in my Louie bag, don't let it overflow
Move it in, ship it out, tell me if they want some more (some more)
'Cause I got that fire, it's coming for them now
Friends are falling off, talking shit for no reason
Checking all my locks 'cause it's robbing season now
La-da-da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da, da
With a sky like this, I drop my top (I drop my top)
Pull up on you just like a sock (just like a sock)
Come and ride we ain't even gotta talk (we ain't gotta talk)
Yeah, yeah, Yebba
Yeah, but I was 'posed to make it by now (uh-oh)
Yeah, but life threw me in the wrong realm (uh-oh)
Yeah, we always got time to do better (uh-oh)
Yebba, I was tryna do it right now (uh-oh)
And we was growing up in a town (uh-oh)
Where they never showed love to the brown (uh-huh)
24 hours ain't enough time (uh-huh)
I was fighting, throwing hands with the clock (uh-oh)
Never been sweet, no honeycomb (oh, oh)
Money gone, granny gone, run along (woah, oh)
City burn, pin it on Pentagon (oh, oh)
Can't make it up, no Revlon (woah, oh)
Shit bubble up, RevRun (oh, oh)
Had the episodes, this a re-run (oh, oh)
And they tell me, "Go pray to the reverend"
Told God that I felt like a stepson (oh)
Buy a brand new coupe for the stress, huh
Thick thang on the way for the stress, huh
Big blunt on the way to my chest lungs
Nowadays the distance hit me hard (hit me hard)
I admit, I'm addicted to living large (living large)
One, three, five, seven, beat the odds (beat the odds)
Put it in my Louie bag, don't let it overflow
Move it in, ship it out, tell me if they want some more (some more)
'Cause I got that fire, it's coming for them now
Friends are falling off, talking shit for no reason
Checking all my locks 'cause it's robbing season now
La-da-da-da-da-da, da-da-da-da, da
Writer(s): James Francis, Christopher Smith, Kamaal Freed, Abigail Smith
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