Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
StaySolidRocky
StaySolidRocky
Vocals
Trippie Redd
Trippie Redd
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Nicholas Mira
Nicholas Mira
Composer
Tim Henson
Tim Henson
Composer
Darak Figueroa
Darak Figueroa
Songwriter
Michael Lamar White
Michael Lamar White
Songwriter
Danny Lee Snodgrass, Jr.
Danny Lee Snodgrass, Jr.
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Tim Henson
Tim Henson
Producer
Terrance Armond
Terrance Armond
Assistant Recording Engineer
Edgard N. Herrera
Edgard N. Herrera
Mixing Engineer
Nick Mira
Nick Mira
Producer
Taz Taylor
Taz Taylor
Producer

Lyrics

Internet Money, bitch (Yeah, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ooh) (Yeah, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) Big 14, know what the fuck goin' on Lil', uh, bitch Ayy, yeah (hahahaha, Nick, you're stupid) They don't understand who I am (yeah, ayy, yeah) I had to WWE slam (slam) Down on these fuck niggas, yeah, yeah (yeah, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) I said they had the murder rate high, yeah (bah) I said they had the murder rate high, yeah (had the murder rate high) Pull up with them Glocks, nigga, like yeah (yeah) Pull up, send some shots, nigga, like yeah (yeah) Gunpowder get popped, nigga, like yeah (yeah) We done had the whole hood hot, nigga, yeah (woo) Pull out on the block, nigga, like yeah (bitch) I love the way your body drop, yeah, yeah (way it drop, yeah) The way it tumble then it flop, yeah, yeah (yeah) I don't got the time to be playin' games with the opps Pull up with this chop and then I knock you out your socks (bah) Timeless and I don't need a motherfuckin' clock Man, I swear to God, all I need is my Glock and mop, yeah They don't understand who I am (yeah, ayy, yeah) I had to WWE slam (slam) Down on these fuck niggas, yeah, yeah (yeah, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) I said they had the murder rate high, yeah (bah) I said they had the murder rate high, yeah (had the murder rate high) Pull up with them Glocks, nigga, like yeah (yeah) Pull up, send some shots, nigga, like yeah (Yeah) Gunpowder get popped, nigga, like yeah (Yeah) Bitch, we spin like Ricky Bobby, not the Bobby with lil' Whitney I drop five up on the Glock and you think I ain't bring it with me I put four-fives in this big three-oh and spark it like a blizzy I don't show no love to city hoes, but I do love this Glizzy Make her vow to me, you will never jam when you in need With this laser beam put him underneath the concrete Better not play with me, I'ma make sure you niggas sleep Dig your grave for me, jump inside and tell me what you see, uh They don't understand who I am (yeah, ayy, yeah) I had to WWE slam (slam) Down on these fuck niggas, yeah, yeah (yeah, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) I said they had the murder rate high, yeah (bah) I said they had the murder rate high, yeah (had the murder rate high) Pull up with them Glocks, nigga, like yeah (yeah) Pull up, send some shots, nigga, like yeah (yeah) Gunpowder get popped, nigga, like yeah (yeah) We done had the whole hood hot, nigga, yeah (woo) Pull out on the block, nigga, like yeah (bitch) I love the way your body drop, yeah, yeah (way it drop, yeah) The way it tumble then it flop, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Writer(s): Michael Lamar Ii White, Tim Henson, Danny Lee Snodgrass Jr., Nicholas Mira, Darak Ahmath Figueroa Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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