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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Chillinit
Chillinit
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Sid Mallick
Sid Mallick
Composer
Blake Turnell
Blake Turnell
Composer
Vincent Goodyer
Vincent Goodyer
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Sid Mallick
Sid Mallick
Producer
18YOMAN
18YOMAN
Producer
Izaac Wilson
Izaac Wilson
Engineer
Adam McElnea
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
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