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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Songwriter
Kentrell Gaulden
Kentrell Gaulden
Songwriter
Seth Love
Seth Love
Songwriter
Jason Goldberg
Jason Goldberg
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Recording Engineer
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Producer
Skeeo!
Skeeo!
Producer
Jason Goldberg
Jason Goldberg
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

(Skeeo, you crazy) 4KTrey We put guns to the face Ain't nobody safe, who gon' die today? It's a murder business Four, four Uh, uh, four, huh, four, four, uh, uh, four Fuck it up, fuck it up, four Uh, uh, fuck it up, fuck it up, it's Top, nigga Had to tell lil' mama "Bag it up", come here, drop that ass on me We got sticks inside this fuckin' truck You play, they whack your ass for free Bro died, I was down for weeks, I was on plenty drugs Dog hoes talk down on me, but fuck 'em, I got plenty love From the streets to the cellblock, he got red dot, hollows hot It get steep, play with pale stuff 'til my arm lock, I scrape the pot Gangster bitch tryna hold me down, she see I frown and wonder why Surveillance sit outside my home, tryna take me down, I'm duckin' cops I'm a thug nigga, fuck you, bitch, I got gravediggers Run with me, I'll bust you, you bitch Fuck the campus, I'm at school with that stick You gon' get bluesed, you get hit Break all the rules, get 'em fixed Cutthroat, ain't complyin' with shit Mama, kill these pussy niggas that's dissin', now, you know I gotta I'm tryna shoot the hoes that's with 'em 'cause I'm a fuckin' problem I'm gon' pop somethin', I run with sticks, they all be goblins I be head huntin', lil' bro just called and said he got one Had to tell lil' mama, "Bag it up," come here, drop that ass on me Stacks inside my pants, I got 'em neat, I come up from the streets Hold on, stop this bitch, I bag 'em up Shoot first, now come run up on me I leave out red, I bang that green Don't diss out peace, best keep your heat From the streets to the cellblock, he got red dot, hollows hot It get steep, play with pale stuff 'til my arm lock, I scrape the pot Gangster bitch tryna hold me down, she see I frown and wonder why Surveillance sit outside my home, tryna take me down, I'm duckin' cops Get the drop, we pop an opp Load up, send my brothers out We kept plenty sticks at papa house Before you know, they roll me out They posted up, we spun around Lil' bro, let my window down This K come out, we spray around Fall, can't shoot back, we leave you found Top ain't known to fuck around, 4Tre 38 made me On lock up, guards gon' slam me down These bitches ain't gon' slave me On phones, watch what you say to me Come face to me, they might raid me Can't leave trace when we sling heat Still probably at the crib with a .223 Mama, kill these pussy niggas that's dissin', now, you know I gotta I'm tryna shoot the hoes that's with 'em 'cause I'm a fuckin' problem I'm gon' pop somethin', I run with sticks, they all be goblins I be head huntin', lil' bro just called and said he got one Had to tell lil' mama "Bag it up", come here, drop that ass on me We got sticks inside this fuckin' truck You play, they whack your ass for free Bro died, I was down for weeks, I was on plenty drugs Dog hoes talk down on me, but fuck 'em, I got plenty love (Skeeo, you crazy)
Writer(s): Maurice Jordan, Kentrell Gaulden, Jason Goldberg, Seth Love Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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