Music Video

Trippie Redd – NUN Feat. DaBaby (Official Audio)
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Trippie Redd
Trippie Redd
Vocals
DaBaby
DaBaby
Vocals
Lil Baby
Lil Baby
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Hunter Roberts
Hunter Roberts
Songwriter
Jonathan Lyndale Kirk
Jonathan Lyndale Kirk
Songwriter
Michael Lamar White II
Michael Lamar White II
Songwriter
Peter Jideonwo
Peter Jideonwo
Songwriter
Sil Van Bebber
Sil Van Bebber
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Hunter Roberts
Hunter Roberts
Producer
Igor Mamet
Igor Mamet
Mixing Engineer
Bacon and Popcorn
Bacon and Popcorn
Producer
UK24
UK24
Producer

Lyrics

(Sil on the beat, too) Uh-uh, uh-uh (yeah) Uh-uh, uh-uh Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me shit, can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me shit, can't tell me nothin' (yeah) Can't tell me shit (oh, oh, oh, oh) I done asked you, "What's your name?" I done asked you, "What's your game?" (yeah, bitch) Pull up in a whip that cost half a M (yeah, yeah, yeah) Haven't known what's the name I think it's a Celine, ah, yeah, she wanna be part of my gang She wanna get with the team Prolly wanna take pictures with me Prolly wanna take pictures with Trip' (uh, yeah) She run out screamin' now, she 1400 I can show you how to go get some motherfuckin' money But first, nigga, you gotta want it Nigga, I ain't trippin' on shit, I ain't sad, I'm just bluntin' I'm prolly thinkin' 'bout havin' some money With me, a bad lil' bitch, long hair, fat ass, and I love it She prolly thinkin' 'bout having a hubby (yeah, yeah, yeah) I'm prolly thinkin' 'bout having a new bitch letting her hair blow Tell her, "Put that in a hairbow" (go, go, go) Still selling motherfuckin' elbows (yeah, yeah, yeah) Put that on the L-O, yeah, these niggas know how I'm rockin' These niggas know how I get (yeah) I pull down my shirt whenever I hop out my whip (woo, woo, woo) I had to cover my glick (yeah) I'm tryna bake me a nigga, bake him like a fish (bow, bow) Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me shit, can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me shit, can't tell me nothin' (yeah) Can't tell me shit Yeah, goin' hard (go, go, go) Every day, goin' hard, yeah I got racks for days (go), goin' hard Grew up in them trenches (go), you couldn't tell me nothin' Yeah, grew up on that block, boy, I'm mama's son (bah) Pullin' up, fleet of trucks like Obama's son (bah, yeah) I've been selling out arenas, like I'm Donda's son (gang) Told em', "Make a wish" like I'm Cosmo and Wanda's son (ha) My future bright, my heart dark like it ain't got the Sun (ha) I heard you're racin' to the top, boy, you better run Niggas know that I'm the shit, boy, you better plunge They like "Trip, where you get that drip?", boy, it's one of one (shit, bitch) I heard them pussy niggas thought that I was one and done (shit, shit) I'm from 800 where them choppers spray, we run and gun (bah) I thought a pussy ass bitch nigga said somethin' (brah, brah, brah) Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me nothin', can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me shit, can't tell me nothin' Can't tell me shit, can't tell me nothin' (yeah) Can't tell me shit
Writer(s): Jonathan Lyndale Kirk, Paul Beauregard, Reginald D. Boyland, Michael Lamar White Ii, Timothy Martin Moore Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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