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T.I. - Peanut Butter Jelly (Audio) ft. Young Thug, Young Dro
Watch T.I. - Peanut Butter Jelly (Audio) ft. Young Thug, Young Dro on YouTube

Featured In

Listen to Da' Nic - EP by T.I.
ALBUMDa' Nic - EPT.I.
Listen to Ep. 2 The Pharmacy Playlist featuring T.I.
PLAYLISTEp. 2 The Pharmacy PlaylistThe Pharmacy
Listen to Release: September 11, 2015 featuring T.I.
PLAYLISTRelease: September 11, 2015Release
Listen to Ep. 13 Day-Off Radio Playlist featuring T.I.
PLAYLISTEp. 13 Day-Off Radio PlaylistFool's Gold Radio

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
T.I.
T.I.
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Anthony Bell
Anthony Bell
Songwriter
Christian Karlsson
Christian Karlsson
Songwriter
Henrik Jonback
Henrik Jonback
Songwriter
Linus Eklöw
Linus Eklöw
Songwriter
Martina Sorbara
Martina Sorbara
Songwriter
Jimmy Koitzsch
Jimmy Koitzsch
Songwriter
Phil Hurtt
Phil Hurtt
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
London On Da Track
London On Da Track
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
(We got London on da' track)
[Verse 2]
Peanut butter jelly, peanut butter jelly
Peanut butter jelly, peanut butter jelly
Peanut butter jelly, no deli
I got money, check the store credit
No new names unless you know they did it
Sleep in Paris, watch it happen
[Verse 3]
I don't have a break, I'm keepin' bread
I'm gettin' fast like a track, mil' I want that
Baby, that cap's for the feds
That ain't your ho, don't tell all the secrets (Shh)
I don't give no damn 'bout no ****
I don't give no fuck 'bout no ****, I promise, I promise
I throw me some me some ones on these bitches
I stack them hundreds to the ceiling they over there runnin'
I look like I came from nothin'
And I look like I came for somethin'
And I'm comin' I want it
Yeah, I drink on that lean and I smoke on that dope
Till I muhfucking vomit
[Verse 4]
Run up that check, give a fuck 'bout that shit
I guess I go to jail if I want that lil' bitch
They kept me with my strap on my own that lil' bitch
I don't answer no questions, want speak with my lawyer
Tell your boss I said, where my phone call? That's it
A lot of **** shit talkin' you don't ever get paid
Remember me I've been 'bout it, dealin' out the 10th grade
Ridin' round in my homeboy Buick
With a tool in the unit
We'd go to school, eat lunch
Cut school, get back to it, ****
Listen ****, this the Bankroll Mob
If you can't go hard then you can't come here
Let me make somethin' clear
If you lookin' for a sucker well it ain't none here
Look we got artillery  for days we can spray from here
Hit your ass on the side of the face somewhere
On the side of the road let you lay somewhere
[Verse 5]
I don't have a break, I'm keepin' bread
I'm gettin' fast like a track, mil' I want that
Baby, that cap's for the feds
That ain't your ho, don't tell all the secrets (Shh)
I don't give no damn 'bout no ****
I don't give no fuck 'bout no ****, I promise, I promise
I throw me some me some ones on these bitches
I stack them hundreds to the ceiling they over there runnin'
I look like I came from nothin'
And I look like I came for somethin'
And I'm comin', I want it
Yeah, I drink on that lean and I smoke on that dope
Till I muhfucking vomit
[Verse 6]
Okay, big paper
If I'm hungry, I eat 100 dollars, then shit paper
Sick flavor
Got the white double mint twin with me on Simpson mint wafer
Swag impeccable peckin' a heck of them cases federal
I'm a felon, don't throw it off, I need medical
Oh you regular, terrible, soft, and lame etcetera
And I don't want one ho **** I want a plethora
Twenty bricks in the regal
Pullin' up at the ridge, extended heater
Death threat, I got this shit on
I'm untouchable man I got this shit on
**** you'll die soon as I say okay
My whip that's strawberry Yoplait
I got a chopper on the charger you put a little gas in it
That motherfucker blow about four days
**** broke
And I've been leanin' on Ac' all in this bitch
And I've been smokin' on gas all in this bitch
Pullin' up at the light no tag on my shit
AK hit everybody in the stomach, pussy **** shit
Bag all day
[Verse 7]
I don't have a break, I'm keepin' bread
I'm gettin' fast like a track, mil' I want that
Baby, that cap's for the feds
That ain't your ho, don't tell all the secrets (Shh)
I don't give no damn 'bout no ****
I don't give no fuck 'bout no ****, I promise, I promise
I throw me some me some ones on these bitches
I stack them hundreds to the ceiling they over there runnin'
I look like I came from nothin'
And I look like I came for somethin'
And I'm comin', I want it
Yeah, I drink on that lean and I smoke on that dope
Till I muhfucking vomit
[Verse 8]
I got that bread
Ya'll bitch'll give me the head
Fuck her on the sofa, not the bed
Hit that lil' bitch from the back
And I take out with your pack
And I'm not givin' it back
I done lost all my respect
Don't drink no red, we pour Ac'
Sippin' on lean it's so crazy
I ride out that second I swear I don't know how to act
Keep it goin' Energizer bunny I'm so-so with these carrots
My bitch with the baddest, but she not your average
Oh, she so, so arrogant, whoa
Her titties calcium, her booty calories
And then both of em' squish me, Goddamn, we savages
I do this shit for my momma
Take off with your pack and keep runnin'
I'm not that Birdman but I'm stunnin'
I flip that bitch like a omelet
I've been with ya from the start
I did that shit from my heart
I'm so so so sorry I hurt you and I see the scar
But you know I worked hard
[Verse 9]
Peanut butter jelly, peanut butter jelly
Peanut butter jelly, peanut butter jelly
Peanut butter jelly, no deli
I got money, check the store credit
No new names unless you know they did it
Sleep in Paris, watch it happen
[Verse 10]
I don't have a break, I'm keepin' bread
I'm gettin' fast like a track, mil' I want that
Baby, that cap's for the feds
That ain't your ho, don't tell all the secrets (Shh)
I don't give no damn 'bout no ****
I don't give no fuck 'bout no **** I promise I promise
I throw me some me some ones on these bitches
I stack them hundreds to the ceiling they over there runnin'
I look like I came from nothin'
And I look like I came for somethin'
And I'm comin' I want it
Yeah, I drink on that lean and I smoke on that dope
Till I muhfucking vomit
[Verse 11]
(We got London on da' track)
Written by: Anthony Bell, Christian Karlsson, Henrik Jonback, Jimmy Koitzsch, Linus Eklöw, Martina Sorbara, Philip Hurtt

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