Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rich Brian
Rich Brian
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Brian Imanuel
Brian Imanuel
Songwriter
Christian Dold
Christian Dold
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Brian Imanuel
Brian Imanuel
Producer
Christian Dold
Christian Dold
Mixing Engineer
Gentry Studer
Gentry Studer
Mastering Engineer
Diamond Pistols
Diamond Pistols
Producer

Lyrics

I just took a test, it's sounding like my shit go stupid Lil bitch, I got like 10 percent more left on my to-do list I rode by with my old car, it's a coup, his name is Lucas Mimosa with my old girl, frag grenade, that pussy boomin' I took that flight and got a big bag, man this shit is so taxin' I set goals then beat it like Jackson Black on black, my shirt from PacSun You not fye, your homie just gassin' Phone, going through my IG top request These hoes trippin' like banana peels Are raining up and down the road, ah Pussy bald like Joe Rogan Take her phone away That bitch tryna get photos Driving me loco, tippin' on 44s Back to the bathroom (Ayyyy) Permanent racks I'm getting my plaques I'm paying the tax Your pocket is lighter so we'll never match No square in my circle, no time for all that I'm ridin' 'round the city with the mothafuckin' bros, yeah Driving 'til the sun is up, that's how it tends to go, yeah Whippin' cutlass, causing ruckus But I'm on that visa Me not fucking with you boys You actin' like a diva I'm cuttin' that track and I'm rapping And getting that bag but I'm missin' that terminal three I just quit the pack and the stoges But if he want the smoke, he could get it like Bella Hadid I don't do that violence but come at me crazy I'll Michael B Jordan yo ass (I promise) My biggest motivation is my dad And some kid saying that shit was trash I count it, I count it, I count it, like I cannot sleep And I'm counting the sheeps on my bed I miss when the shit I was scared of was eating the seeds And the tree that would grow on my head I ain't seen the fam in a couple of months It's been 22 months that shit's almost 2 years I promise that when I come back to Jakarta That y'all gon' be proud of the shit that I built My neck is a mortgage She got a iPhone but don't got no storage 550k for the DP The crib is four milli' I'm never gon' drive in no Porsche Maybe a Tes-la Ain't got no guns but the wheels automatic Not boutta drop no bands for no Lambos The shit is too fast just to sit in some traffic (Ayy, bitch) Uh How the fuck you hate and resent me for doing and trying my best, uh? I don't remember your birthday but I know my billing address, uh Que sera sera, lil' bitch Maybe this life is not fun as you think I never look at my phone when it ring I'm ridin' 'round the city with the mothafuckin' bros, yeah Driving 'til the sun is up, that's how it tends to go, yeah Whippin' cutlass, causing ruckus But I'm on that visa Me not fucking with you boys You actin' like a diva I'm ridin' 'round the city with the motherfuckin' bros, yeah Driving 'til the sun is up, that's how it tends to go, yeah Whippin' cutlass, causing ruckus But I'm on that visa Me not fucking with you boys You actin' like a diva
Writer(s): Christian Dold, Brian Soewarno Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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