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Crédits

AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Lil Baby
Lil Baby
Stimme und Gesang
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Anton Gololobov
Anton Gololobov
Songwriter:in
Ryan Hartlove
Ryan Hartlove
Songwriter:in
William Boyette
William Boyette
Songwriter:in
Dominique Jones
Dominique Jones
Songwriter:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Anthony Palmer
Anthony Palmer
Produzent:in
Thomas “Tillie” Mann
Mischtechniker:in
Stephen "Dot Com" Farrow
Stephen "Dot Com" Farrow
Mischtechnikerassistent:in
Trajuan “Mixedbytra” Jackson
Mischtechnikerassistent:in
Angie Randisi
Angie Randisi
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Matthew "Mattazik Muzik" Robinson
Matthew "Mattazik Muzik" Robinson
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Ryan Hartlove
Ryan Hartlove
Produzent:in
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering-Ingenieur:in

Paroles

Chrome Heart jeans, I'm kind of done with them Amiris Some would call it crazy, half a ticket on some earrings Ask for decade, had a plug when I was 16 PTSD, I ain't sleep so I don't got dreams Two things I ain't running out, this money and this lean Two things I care about, my family and my team We was supposed to keep it on the low, but why you scream Balling like the playoffs, I'm tryna get a ring Payouts in Miami Pretty vibes wilding out like they work for Nick Cannon Tell that bitch to have a seat, I know that she can't stand it Tell them boys it's fuck 'em all, ain't got no understanding Legend in my neighborhood for real, free Shannon Keeping my composure, I'm on chill, I can't panic They say I wouldn't make it past two years, but I managed to You supposed to go with how you feel, I'm not mad at you G-Wagon matte-blue She gettin' my rocks off, I buy her Goyard Fuck all the time, I still act like Ion know her I heard that pressure bursts pipes, I come so hard Why y'all on my dick? You know that's yo hoe job Ain't worried 'bout nothing Everybody they own boss, we all getting this money Call it what you wanna call it, I'm one of the owners I could of exposed you, brodie, but I ain't gon' talk about it I was in the trap too, I fucked up my sack too Most of that shit cap, can't go for that, you say it's facts, prove it Plug had us on a stand still but now we back movin' They thought they was winning 'til I entered now they back losing Brodie in prison on an iPhone getting tattooed I don't know who told you to come for me, that's a bad move I ain't in no space for no company, I'm in a bad mood Only thing I gotta abide by is the cash rules If you think I ain't running this money up, you a damn fool Trying to count my pocket, my networth ain't on no damn Google Fifty million dollars in a year, if I'm lying, shoot me Five hundred thousand every show, I'm on my grind, stupid I been fucking her and her best friend, I put 'em in a group text They done made you mad, get in your bag, that's how you pose to do that Everybody got a hunnid guns, they know where not to shoot at I'ma get this guap until I'm done, bro, I can promise you that I was on the block when shit was lit for real, where the fuck was you at? Never drop no salt then hit a bitch for real, bro, we don't do that We the ones that really out here pushing, bro, I thought you knew that Come through in that wassaname, everybody look like, who dat She gettin' my rocks off, I buy her Goyard Fuck all the time, I still act like Ion know her I heard that pressure bursts pipes, I come so hard Why y'all on my dick, you know that's yo hoe job Ain't worried 'bout nothing Everybody they own boss, we all getting this money Call it what you wanna call it, I'm one of the owners I could of exposed you, brodie But ain't gon talk about it
Writer(s): Dominique Jones, William Eric Boyette, Ryan Hartlove, Anton Sergeevich Gololobov Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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