Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
BLCKK
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Christian Masters Miner
Composer
Lyrics
Fuck everybody outside (whoa)
Tinted windows, I got people on the inside (whoa)
I might start selling bricks with my - wild (yeah)
And my new shit mean, this my top five (bet)
If that shit ain't come from me, couldn't be a fact (whoa)
I don't fucking need a thing, hold up, matter fact (yeah)
I take it back, I need a switch on my new metal (yeah)
What the fuck you think these racks for, sentimental? (Bitch)
Yeah, yeah (whoa, whoa, whoa)
Bitch, I'm back with it, I found you, I want blood, bitch (whoa, whoa)
Track different as soon as you put me in the mix (yeah)
I'm getting sicker every second, you gon' die quick (yeah)
I'm impatient, I want figures for a feature (whoa)
Running up a tab with the fucking grim reaper (whoa, whoa)
Money in the bag, living ain't gon' get cheaper (nah)
I'm outside y'all window with the fucking street sweeper (huh)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Watch yourself, I been through it one time (yeah)
Then I'm running through a full bottle, two nights (whoa)
Couldn't be like me if you tried three lives (yeah)
Think 'bout giving up and fucking buy a four-five (bap, bap, bap)
Figured I was different since I'm six years old (yeah)
Seven out of seven every week wouldn't fold (yeah)
I drop Eighty Proof and it's nine times bigger (whoa, whoa, whoa)
Ten out of ten, speaking of which, I need liquor (bap)
Watch yourself, I been through it one time (whoa, whoa)
Then I'm running through a full bottle, two nights (whoa)
Couldn't be like me if you tried three lives (whoa)
Think 'bout giving up and fucking buy a four five
Figured I was different since I'm six years old (yeah)
Seven out of seven every week, wouldn't fold (yeah)
I drop Eighty Proof and it's nine times bigger (whoa, whoa, whoa)
Ten out of ten, speaking of which, I need liquor
If you still ain't pick it up, I'm a motherfucking issue (whoa)
Longer I'm alive mama cry 'cause she been through (yeah)
Every other penny that her son made burnt (burnt)
Dead man walking, yeah, bitch, but I learn (but I learn)
Every fucking second that I breathe, bitch, I earn that (whoa)
Fuck you, don't wanna hear shit after backpack (yeah)
I'm fucking better, bitch, I'm in it, that's a setback (yeah)
Trust me, I'm 'bout my motherfucking get back (woo)
Writer(s): Christian Masters Miner
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