Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Chillinit
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Sid Mallick
Composer
Blake Turnell
Composer
Vincent Goodyer
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Sid Mallick
Producer
18YOMAN
Producer
Izaac Wilson
Engineer
Adam McElnea
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Woo, haha
This for my fam
Every king needs a queen, know what I'm sayin'
Haha, check, check
Like baby, why we gotta trip
Why you bustin' out my grip
Why you cussin' while I drive
Just to fuck you in my whip
Smokin' something like my bitch
Instead we getting high
Then we fight and then we slip
Yeah why the fuck you gots to dip
I ain't got CC's
Baby don't be PG
Baby keep this aw
Make a movie, make it 3D
I ain't bout the skeet skeet
But all them other men are make you cum
Are getting deep deep
Impress ya 'til your knee's weak
And then you start to see me
We got emotional sides
The only difference, we close 'em inside
I mean, how the fuck you think I deal with pressures
I'm 'sposed to provide
Of a father if he opens his eyes
There ain't no closure in life
All we do is pray, and hope we don't die
So bredrin, please just check my vocals are right
And this music blow on the mic
Pray the lord send me pussy, money, dope in my life
I know it's wrong
But baby hope that I'm right, for real
Uhh, that's why I take her to the hood
Maybe show her to my fam
Show her Blake is doing good
I would chase her and pursue her
Ain't no woman like my woman
Trust me bro, you know this woman
You would chase her if you knew her
Take her on the tour
Mix the Bailey's and Kahlua
Then fuck her up on the top floor of sold out shows
Just to roll another swisher up then roll out smoke
I ain't busy fuckin' 'round with these old town hoes no more
Country music rap shit
Same shit that probably made the 80's do a backflip
Same bitch probably gettin' wetter than a baptist
Baptise pussy's just to bless it on a mattress like one time
Used to ball in the club
Now I can't believe we fallin' in love
Now I used to hit the plug at late nights
And make the call for the drugs
Now I'm home late night in case she calls me to fuck
And I'll be right there
Yeah the pussy tied there
Baby, like my hater you know I fuck you right, yeah
Now you sayin' I don't give a fuck, well baby I care
Always breakin' phones when we argue
Get me I care
Like yeah
We argue when we meet
Then we argue when we leave
Nowadays, I get to argue when I'm 30,000 feet
Fuckin' Wi-Fi
Meant to feel connected, disconnected
This is bye-bye
We should take a break from all the bullshit
Take a ride by
The spot we smoked upon the cliff
When it was nighttime
Fuck that bullshit baby girl
Just bring your white wine
Writer(s): Vincent Goodyer, Blake James Turnell, Siddharth Mallick
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com