Music Video

Vince Staples - Ramona Park Broke My Heart : MAMA'S BOY (Visualizer)
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Vince Staples
Vince Staples
Vocals
Coop the Truth
Coop the Truth
Programming
nami
nami
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Vince Staples
Vince Staples
Songwriter
Cooper McGill
Cooper McGill
Songwriter
Dylan Ismael Teixeira
Dylan Ismael Teixeira
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Coop the Truth
Coop the Truth
Producer
Matt Wolach
Matt Wolach
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Chris Gehringer
Chris Gehringer
Mastering Engineer
Will Quinnell
Will Quinnell
Assistant Mastering Engineer
Tyler Page
Tyler Page
Recording Engineer
nami
nami
Producer

Lyrics

Yeah, yeah, on my mama Yeah, this one goes out to all the baby mama's mama's mamas On my mama's mama (yeah) On my mama, on my mama On my mama (boom) You ain't gettin' blue strips, what? You ain't ever shoot shit, what? (Say what?) Went into the precinct, cuh, told them who did what Niggas be way too tough (tough), finna call your bluff, pick up Whole rap sheet smut, mouth runnin', you an athlete, huh? Gotta chase that bag (bag), can't let it pass me up (no way) Keep one tucked, the opps don't play Been way more beef since I got paid I ride 'round town with Ray Charles tint The police search, they won't find shit I'm way too rich for sleepless nights The beef on sight and I won't miss (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (yeah) Live for the money and die for the dollars (die for the dollars) Home of the killers and flockers (flockers) (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama Michelin stars (yeah), we gotta eat, soon as he Tweet Sent to the Lord (bang), land of the beast, runnin' the streets (runnin' the streets) Glory to God (thank God), answered my mama in prayers I got my weight up, workin' my way up Now I don't go 'less they pay us Money ain't everything (nah, it's not) But I promise, it help the pain (on God) I just paid for a body and got the receipt, baby, let's celebrate (dead homies) Makin' money, makin' moves (yeah, yeah) Channel 7, breakin' news (yeah, yeah) Competition, what you on, run up on me, I'ma (boom, boom) (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama (yeah) Live for the money and die for the dollars (die for the dollars) Home of the killers and flockers (flockers) (On my mama) I love this shit like my mama On my mama (dead homies) On my mama (on my mama, nigga, run down) On my mama (just like my mama gunned down) On my mama (just like my mama) Yeah, on my mama Yeah, on my mama (niggas talkin' 'bout all that like) Put this shit on my mama (dead homies, nigga) Put it on my mama I'd like to think that had I not to had to work three jobs, two jobs I could've spent a little more time and maybe he would not have become a monster Dead homies
Writer(s): Vincent Staples, Cooper Douglas Mcgill, Dylan Ismael Teixeira Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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