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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
BIG30
Vocals
Lil Durk
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rodney Wright
Songwriter
Durk Banks
Songwriter
Imanuel Cooper
Songwriter
Amir Mohamed
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
4mmo
Producer
Manny
Producer
Ari Morris
Mixing Engineer
T Head
Recording Engineer
Leo Goff
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Mmm, Manny cook that shit, uh (blrrrd, blrrrd-blrrrd)
No pad, no pen shit
Blrrrd, blrrrd-blrrrd-blrrrd
Blrrrd, blrrrd, big blrrrd
No postin' on my block, ayy, you either shoppin' or servin'
.357 'cross my lap, just for Mista, we purgin'
We whack shit on the scene, you blessed if you made it to surgery
He spoke on Geno, told my hitter, "Go get him, it's urgent"
They put that battery in his back and I ain't even slide for him
He send a threat from a hospital bed, be quiet, boy
Big boy .45, boy, nine, ten, eleven, my slide toy
Every chain white or rose, but this Gucci link my vibe choice
Ayy, you been smokin'? Say some', get too close, my niggas spray some'
For smokin', Geno laced him, 'fore he know it, the members faced him
Boy, you were damn near wasted, watch where you drop the location
Did all my lil' hoe up, I got in my lil' situation, that my lil' shit
Might fuck out here, that my lil' bitch
Louis frame, Louis kicks, exclusive gang, Louis V stitch
Got shot so many times and lived (smurk), call him Lil 50 Cent
I had a nine in two years, I miss my Glock 26 (brrah) (let's get it)
Me and Von was fightin' our case together, the state had to see our face together (gang)
Switches go broom-broom, fifty-thousand to stitch his face together (brrah)
I don't like Qua', I like Wock', Wock' in the Peach crush because I taste it better (let's get it)
Louis belt with a hoodie to hide my dreads and hold my Drac' together (on gang)
Fightin' over hits, like where he go? Shit, who chased them better? (Me)
Can't trust these hoes from nobody hood no more, they backdoor, play together (bitch)
Me, I gotta keep a gun, I'll drop my lo' (let's get it)
I gotta keep a fund, these killers 'round me (let's get it)
Ain't never gon' run, if it's up, then it's stuck (let's get it), and that's on my son, nigga (bah)
PPP got you feelin' yourself, that's a Cartier, that ain't no Patek, nigga (pussy)
Touch 2-5 hunnid-K, on Pluto grave, I ain't no average nigga (grrah)
We done been through shit inside them trenches, you can't imagine, nigga (let's get it)
I'm with the same niggas, we used to hoop on crates inside them alleys, nigga (man, what?)
No postin' on my block, ayy, you either shoppin' or servin'
.357 'cross my lap, just for Mista, we purgin'
We whack shit on the scene, you blessed if you made it to surgery
He spoke on Geno, told my hitter, "Go get him, it's urgent"
They put that battery in his back and I ain't even slide for him
He send a threat from a hospital bed, be quiet, boy
Big boy .45, boy, nine, ten, eleven, my slide toy
Every chain white or rose, but this Gucci link my vibe choice
Writer(s): Amir Mohamed, Durk Banks, Rodney With, Imanuel Cooper
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