Featured In
Top Songs By YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Vocals
cheese
Performer
Indiagotthembeats
Performer
K4
Performer
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Songwriter
India Arie Williams
Songwriter
Kayshaun Mclean
Songwriter
Kentrell Gaulden
Songwriter
Jason Goldberg
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Recording Engineer
Indiagotthembeats
Producer
K4
Producer
Maurice "Ke'Noe" Jordan
Producer
Jason Goldberg
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
(Mommy, India got them beats)
(K4ProducedIt)
Ten ain't got no mind, nigga, he don't pick and choose
Dee gon' spray the car from front to back to get rid of you
Lil' bro known to keep a drum inside his gat, and he like switch on tools
Know they trap two different cars right back to back
Yeah, yeah
Bitch, go tell 'em, "Free Lil Meechy Baby out that fed' block"
Go tell 'em lil' cuz still making them hitters get busy with them red dots
Go tell 'em we upped the score, got two new opps, one caught a headshot
I know he proud right now 'bout how he saw I beat the feds, huh?
Stop now, pow-pow, then sped off
I'm with that shit, we tear it down
Ol' bitch-ass nigga, boy
You gon' fuck around and get your body found
Free my daddy, I wanna face my problems like my mama
We all with that static, lil' bro, he pop Addies, not no traumas
Deal with problems think I'm traumatized, get chastised, he fumble
Drive, pull up fast, and then jump right on side
Pull your pants up, you see my grandma, bitch (ho-ass boy)
Uh-uh, mmm, he's a motherfucking animal
He come through like a cannonball
His gun gon' straight demolish you, it damage you, he get dissolved
Shoot, let the AR off with monkey nuts, problem solved
Ten ain't got no mind, nigga, he don't pick and choose
Dee gon' spray the car from front to back to get rid of you
Lil' bro known to keep a drum inside his gat, and he like switch on tools
Know they trap two different cars right back to back
Yeah, yeah
Shoot the whole club up, don't cost us nothing, you seen in there
Interstate, from the back, tear the trunk up (baow)
Bitch, you better not have no kids in there
I'm a millionaire, don't throw our position
Nigga, then say we ain't pick 'em fair
Nigga, fuck that, know he dead, we ain't even caring
Should've caught your ass in there
Fly a Crip bitch out just for to let her do my hair
You wanna try me, I play that fair
Bitch, truth or dare (bitch, truth or let's go, uh)
Know I'm banging red like Tony Starks, it's no perhaps
You disrespect, we slump you on your project stairs
It's all I hear, "They don't like you, Top"
I'm like, "Man, who are you? Blah-blah"
You gon hear, "Pow, pow," approach me with that rah-rah, bitch
They know I don't do no stunting
I just wanna end it, fuck that tension, I'm gon' throw out money
They don't do no acting, I get active, I'm on meds, up on 'em
Run up on that bitch clapping, once we smash 'em
Rip off 'em straight laughing like that shit be funny
(Ten ain't got no mind, nigga, he don't pick and choose)
I'll slime allegiance, nigga, to the green flag
(Dee gon' spray the car from front to back to get rid of you)
Of the United States, believe that, of America, bitch
(Lil' bro known to keep a drum inside his gat)
(And he like switch on tools) you better stay on your pivot, nigga
(Know they trap two different cars right back to back) believe it (yeah, yeah)
We gon' split you
Hey, is Kentrell in there?
Writer(s): Maurice Jordan, Kentrell Gaulden, Jason Goldberg, Kayshaun Mclean, Idia Arie Williams
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