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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Nardo Wick
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Horace Walls
Composer
Collin Michael Wetzel
Composer
John Lam
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Horace Walls Jr.
Recording Engineer
John Lam
Producer
Tatsuya Sato
Mastering Engineer
Dinero Tarantino
Producer
Lyrics
I don't really too much fuck with niggas I be chillin' (I be chillin')
Checkin' shit and doin' hits that how we make a killin'
I put it on my granny, we sent niggas past the ceiling
Nigga, you was stealing I was robbing, it's a difference
She feeling on my lap she like "Damn daddy, you hard"
No baby you trippin' that's that glicky in my pocket
Every time I take attendance on they block they absent
This choppa hit from Russia, when I shoot you hear the accent
LRG and Levi jeans, was rocking that way back then
Now I rock Amiri jeans I upgraded my fashion
Mut, I'm a mut, I'm a mut mut (dog)
She grope me up with sloppy she's a slut, slut, slut (she's a-)
Not a plain jane this a bust-bust (this a bust-bust)
All that talking, hit his top and make him hush-hush
All these niggas bitches I don't fеar nuh man
I mean, Nardo Wolverine, I keep steal in my hand
Likе it's foil in my jeans, I keep tin in my pants
Like it's strippers on my jewelry, all these diamonds on me dance
They say I'm too nice to hoes
Off white, I don't like to pose
Anti, I don't like to post
White, I don't like yellow gold
I'm from 32 double O
Got more sticks than double O
Just as Double-O-Seven (tap it, roll and win)
Play with me, you feel the breeze
Play with me, you beat the scene
And don't say that nigga name, unless its after R.I.P.
Pop him like a R.I.P.
Pop him like a I.P.
Pop him like a M5
M5, two three
Shot 'em like a IV
Get yo bitch she like me
She said she wanna fight me
We all know what that means
For the ones that don't know
That means she wanna huh (oh, that mean)
(Baby wanna fuck)
Baby wanna ahh-ahh
Put it in her bah-bah
Nut all on her ahh-ahh
Then never call her bah-bah
Nardo, you the rogue boy
How I'm not Jamaican?
Baby you the roguer, you ate all of my children
Yo tongue is a babysitter, yo stomach is a daycare
I don't really too much fuck wit niggas I be chillin'
Checkin' shit and doin' hits that how we make a killin'
I put it on my granny we sent niggas past the ceiling
Nigga you was stealing I was robbing, it's a difference
She feeling on my lap she like "Damn daddy, you hard"
No baby you trippin' that's that glicky in my pocket
Mut, I'm a mut, I'm a mut-mut (dog)
She grope me up with sloppy she a slut, slut, slut (she's a-)
Not a plain jane this a bust-bust (this a bust-bust)
All that talking, hit his top and make him hush-hush
Writer(s): Inconnu Compositeur Auteur, Robert Amparan
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