Similar Songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Vince Staples
Vocals
Dahi
Additional Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Vince Staples
Composer
Dacoury Natche
Composer
Brent Reynolds
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dahi
Producer
Ritz Reynolds
Co-Producer
Michael Law Thomas
Recording Engineer
Mark "Spike" Stent
Mixing Engineer
Michael Freeman
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
(Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick)
(Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick)
(Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick)
(Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick)
[Verse 2]
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art, or my bitch
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car, or my crib
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car, or my crib
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art, or my bitch
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
[Verse 3]
Yeah, I ain't takin' no more calls, might think 'bout callin' it quits
Press is tryna block my blessings, no more talkin' to Vince
NPR and XXL, man, I can't tell which is which
Missed the mark, I think my label need a marketing switch
Hold up, switch the flow up, I won't roll for nothin'
Rappers hoe up, then they blow up, guess who do the fuckin'?
VMA and Grammy snubbin'
Not walkin' through no clubs
Homie, you can keep your money
It don't do nothin' for me
Heard they lookin' for me, yeah, you's a dummy, yeah
Yeah, somebody found your body parts, run it, run it in
Ay Bay Bay, ain't for play
Sear the steaks, steal the Wraith
(Aye, and them racks is ugly by the way)
(We see you got money to spend, but nonetheless)
[Verse 4]
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art, or my bitch
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car, or my crib
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car, or my crib
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art, or my bitch
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
[Verse 5]
Yeah, I'm from Ramona, no school diploma
We caught him slippin', he in a coma
You got two choices, lose your life or your persona
I still hear voices from them nights I hit the corners
Walked through the MoMA (Yeah)
Just did the feature, hit the scene, and blew the quota (Yeah)
I might do Toshiyuki Kita for the sofa (Yeah)
Might save my Nike check and spend my Coca-Cola (Yeah)
Don't count my packets, pocket rocket, and then you tore up
Time to glow up from the floor up, how I came
You don't know my bank, bitch, don't act like you don't know my name
Don't record me man, bitch, you see me tryna board this plane
Don't you touch my frame, still the one who bust you in the brain
I don't fuck with fame, you don't see me in no fuckin' chains
Ain't no fuckin' slave, Def Jam ain't gon' put me on all day
This the sound I made, won't nobody knock me off my wave
I'm the god in this, fuck up off my dick
[Verse 6]
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art, or my bitch
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car, or my crib
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
Get the fuck off now, get the fuck off my dick
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car, or my crib
Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art, or my bitch
Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick
Written by: Brent Reynolds, Dacoury Natche, Vince Staples