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Credits
AUSFĆHRENDE KĆNSTLER:INNEN
NLE Choppa
Stimme und Gesang
Javar Rockamore
Programmierung
Keyz
Programmierung
Soul Soundz
Programmierung
Stonii
Programmierung
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Bryson Potts
Songwriter:in
Caleb Mclean
Songwriter:in
Javar Rockamore
Songwriter:in
Robert Reese
Songwriter:in
Ron Montgomery
Songwriter:in
Theodore Thomas
Songwriter:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Javar Rockamore
Produzent:in
RealRed
Produzent:in
Tiernan Cranny
Mischtechnikerassistent:in
Chris Athens
Mastering-Ingenieur:in
Aaron Mattes
Mischtechniker:in
Keyz
Produzent:in
Soul Soundz
Produzent:in
Stonii
Produzent:in
Timon Adams
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Lyrics
[Intro]
Th-th-th-think we found a loophole
A hunnid shottas, two oppas, I bet these Glock I pop 'em (I bet I do)
A hunnid shottas, two oppas, I bet these Glock I pop 'em (I bet I do)
A hunnid shottas, two oppas, I bet these Glock I pop 'em
[Verse 1]
Ayy, I think lil' homie scared, fool, he say, "I'm ready, fool" (Ready, fool)
So I gave him that lil' dirty tool, he say he finish dude (He got the Glock, ****)
Say he caught him slippin', got the clip and knocked him out his shoes (Grrt, sayin')
Mama's cryin', **** dyin', pussy, that's what shottas do, (Ayy, shottas)
Creep on your block, real slow (Slow), tint on my window (Window)
Mask on, gloves on (Gloves, hey), you know the clip extendo (Extendo)
Don't let down the window (Ayy), open up the door and chase his ass (The fuck you doin'?)
Put two up in his back and then I walk 'em down and face his ass (Grrt, grrt, grrt)
Said he wants some smoke (Yeah), well, you know I had to lace his ass (Yeah, yeah)
Opposition ho gave me throat while she was shakin' ass (What? What? Yeah)
My pops said, "Don't give him that Glock 'cause you know he gon' fuckin' cry" (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
If a **** catch me in a jam, you know I let it ride (Skrrt, grrt)
It's my life or yours, pussy ****, I'm gon' let me decide
We shoot first, we don't shoot back (Nope), so you **** better duck and hide (Grrt, grrt)
I got the Drac' in trench coats (Ayy), send shots up through the window (Ayy)
I got a Glock, a Gen4 (Ayy), we pop his top and then we go (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Traffickin' birds like Nino (Ayy), we leave him lost like Nemo (Ayy)
All-black attire, emo (Ayy), short time to live like chemo (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
If the number's right, your **** kill you (Ooh), call it bingo (I bet he did it)
You better watch your lingo (Brrt), my **** slide for Gino (Brrt, I made him do it)
I need to slow down on them thirties (Hey), 'cause I'm keep throwin' up (I'm throwin' up)
I threw back two of them bitches (Bah), so it gave me bubble guts (Ayy)
I got my pistol with me (Ayy), got the semi with me (Brrt)
Ridin' in the hemi (Yeah, yeah)
I was thuggin' hard in juvenile (Ayy), I had the rules bendin' (Ayy, ayy, ayy)
They like, "Damn, you left the clip empty? (What?) Yeah, I left that clip empty (Stupid)
Yeah, I'm killer so come tempt me (Duh), Memphis shooter like the Grizzlies (Go)
Shoot his baby mama in his chest (Grrt, grrt), damn near knocked the titty (Uh)
I'm off a couple fuckin' Percocets (Ooh), I feel my body lifted (Ayy)
Why the fuck that boy, he got a vest? (Ayy) We pop his top and dip it (Ayy)
Drive-by in a Honda Civic so they know lil' Choppa did it (Ayy, brrt)
Hop out, boys on the block (Get up), **** ran like they seen the Narcs (Brrt, yeah, ah, yeah)
Hit him in his thigh (Boom), hit him in his back, make him drop
Oh, he still alive? Let me finish that, pop his top (What)
I don't fantasize them bodies in my mind (Huh, huh) and I can't stop (Huh, huh)
Uh, **** know I keep a Glock, yeah (Huh, huh, ayy)
**** (Ayy), fuck, how we gon' buck, ****, fuck, **** (Ayy)
Brrt (Ayy), ****, fuck **** (We takin' trees), bust, ****, brrt (Ayy)
You know we bust triggers (Ayy), fuck, ****
(Brrt, brrt-brrt, brrt, brrt-brrt, brrt-brrt-brrt)
Written by: Bryson Potts, Caleb Mclean, Javar Rockamore, Robert Reese, Ron Montgomery, Theodore Thomas