Top Songs By Valee
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Harry Fraud
Performer
Valee Taylor
Rap
Fred Lowinger
Synthesiser
Elijah Wolf
Synthesiser
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Valee Taylor
Songwriter
Rory William Quigley
Songwriter
Fred Lowinger
Songwriter
Elijah Wolf
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Harry Fraud
Producer
John Sparkz
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Fraud, you wanna hit the butt?
I see you brought your boogie
Tryna smoke these hoes?
When we slap the color, ain't no fraud, but we're in ends
We hot box exotic now we're fried in the Benz
Quarter million, my bitch want necklaces
When we hit the store, we ball get crossed like Saint Francis
I tune out the city when I hot box exotic
Everything upgraded, I got fuel pumped by Holly
My SS robotic, move like Wall-E
How I leave the exit far away from where I be
You know, I don't even start no colony, no mommy
I'm in Gucci like a mixtape, no dutty laundry (dutty laundry)
Launched off the block in sedan raunchy
I just got the seats redid peach look like lunch meat
I got sand sandals cuffs on at the beach know something block me
(I got sand sandals cuffs on at the beach know something block me)
You know, ain't no double what?
ARP, you said watch me, what?
I'm all energy, just like Sage
When I hit the break, I do a nine to five, just like a wage
Let me make this clear, five percent tint, that not clear
Bitch wanna ride my private like Frontier
When I pour the lean inside my cup, it disappear (disappear)
I make the scope spot on like a freckle
When I made a right in the Hellcat, I'm about to let go (I'm about to let go, yeah)
Cherry Range Rover, I pull up picky
When she lick me, I pull up, I show up just like hickey
In that Tesla truck, I do many miles, just like Mickey
Backwood loud, you and I uniform, just like Dickies (just like Dickies)
I rode Backwood, bitch, like ATV
We slap, call out, we ain't do no fraud, but we in Benz
We hot box exotic, now we fried in a Benz
Fifteen hundred dollar frames, non-prescripted lens
Quarter million, my bitch want necklace's
When we hit the store, we ball get crossed like Saint Francis
I tune out the city when I hot box exotic
Everything upgraded, I got fuel pumped by Holly
My SS robotic, move like Wall-E
How I leave the exit far away from where I be
You know, I don't even start no colony, no mommy
I'm in Gucci like a mixtape, no dutty laundry
Writer(s): Fred Lowinger, Rory William Quigley, Michael Maggiore, Valee Taylor, Elijah Wolf, Keshav Garg
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