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Kredyty

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Future
Future
Vocals
Young Thug
Young Thug
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Dylan Cleary-Krell
Dylan Cleary-Krell
Songwriter
Jaden Dixon Christodoulou
Jaden Dixon Christodoulou
Songwriter
Jason Rosenberg
Jason Rosenberg
Songwriter
Jeffery Williams
Jeffery Williams
Songwriter
Joshua Luellen
Joshua Luellen
Songwriter
Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Nayvadius Demun Wilburn
Songwriter
Wesley Tyler Glass
Wesley Tyler Glass
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Aresh Banaji
Aresh Banaji
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Drew Sliger
Drew Sliger
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Dylan Spence
Dylan Spence
Assistant Recording Engineer
Garfield Larmond
Garfield Larmond
Assistant Recording Engineer
A ‘Bainz’ Bains
Mixing Engineer
9jay
9jay
Producer
BeatzbyRrose
BeatzbyRrose
Producer
Dez Wright
Dez Wright
Producer
Southside
Southside
Producer
Wheezy
Wheezy
Producer
Eric Manco
Eric Manco
Recording Engineer
Miguel "wav surgeon" Correa
Miguel "wav surgeon" Correa
Recording Engineer

Tekst Utworu

Wheezy Outta here! (808 Mafia!) The Wagster, turn me up some Yeah, okay Money on money, these millions, ya dig? I'm spending this shit on my bitch and my kids I'm sittin' in the Bent, not the Benz This motherfucker pink slip nigga, no rent I don't want you going to do nothin' If I gotta be the one tell you to spin These fuck niggas tellin' for nothin' And I gotta be the one callin' 'em friends (Grrah) drop top Rolls-Royce I don't know the kind I don't know the name of it Fuck this lil' bitch last night and this morning But I don't know the name of her She told that pussy she don't know nothin' about him And it fucked his fame up We want the same mud, not the green, my nigga, the same mud Mama you a thot (ah) I don't want shots (ah) Brother you a rat (my brother) Twin, you a pack (twin you) Runnin' through Saks (hey!) Louis V slacks (Louis) Hermès Trench (Hermès) Swimming pool heated (ooh) Yeah, she ain't tryna eat it (she ain't tryna what?) Shawty, you can beat it Drinkin' two liter, riding two-seater, ridin' with a eater (uh, beast) Callin' me papi, I'm callin' her mami and señorita (uh, yeah, all of it!) I ain't been cocky, but I been puttin' on ever since beepers (no kizzy) Fuck me good the first day, a nigga might keep her (fuck a nigga good) Blowin' money fast like a fucking cheeta (mm, that's good) I been in the trenches filled with Hyenas (ah, Hyenas, yeah-yeah) Bugatti Spyder whippin' that bitch from the side Money on money, these millions, ya dig? I'm spending this shit on my bitches and kids (put that shit up for my kids) I'm sittin' in the Bent' not the Benz This motherfucker pink slip nigga, no rent (no rent, ya dig?) I don't want you going to do nothin' If I gotta be the one tell you to spin These fuck niggas tellin' for nothin' And I gotta be the one callin' 'em friends (on God) (Grrah) drop top Rolls-Royce, I don't know the kind I don't know the name of it (I don't know the name of it) Fuck this lil' bitch last night and this morning But I don't know the name of her (what's her name?) She told that pussy she don't know nothin' about him And it fucked his fame up (ha-ha) We want the same mud, not the green, my nigga, the same mud You identify my bitches with AP She ain't got an AP, she is not mine You cold, he cold She belongs to the streets (ski) (Ayuh) Spoiled lil' bitch wearin' a Patek (ayuh) Rose gold snake, she a baddie (ayuh) Transport foreign, go slatty (ayuh) Doggin' out the hoe like Shaggy (bih) Could've went Spec', went Caddy' Pull up with the cutter, we ready (yeah) Fucked a opp bitch, I'm petty (ah) Iced out bolognese spaghetti (yeah) First off, gotta go baguette (slime) Talk less, do more spinnin' (yeah) Walk down shit'll get drenchy Turn the whole city up litty (skrrt) Bad bitch could've went viddy (wow) Savage, 21 killers (brr) Brat bitch ridin' with her sister Dog ass ho, you a thotty, ugh Bruh turn cop new body, ugh Twin you rat, you smoke, ugh Shoot em' in the head, you the GOAT, ugh Coulda went fed, went broke, ugh Trap nigga livin' out the ocean, yeah The Phantom, the Rolls I don't know The eaters go everywhere I go (ayuh) Money on money, these millions, ya dig? I'm spending this shit on my bitches and my kids I'm sittin' in the Bent' not the Benz This motherfucker pink slip nigga, no rent I don't want you going to do nothin' If I gotta be the one tell you to spin These fuck niggas tellin' for nothin' And I gotta be the one callin' 'em friends (Grrah) drop top Rolls-Royce, I don't know the kind I don't know the name of it Fuck this lil' bitch last night and this morning But I don't know the name of her She told that pussy she don't know nothin' about him And it fucked his fame up We want the same mud, not the green, my nigga the same mud
Writer(s): Wesley Tyler Glass, Dylan Taylor Cleary Krell, Navraj Goraya, Nayvadius Wilburn, Amir Esmailian, Don Toliver Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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