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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Vocals
DJ Chose
DJ Chose
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kentrell Gaulden
Kentrell Gaulden
Songwriter
Kiari Cephus
Kiari Cephus
Songwriter
Norman Payne
Norman Payne
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Chose
DJ Chose
Producer

Lyrics

Mothafuck them niggas and what they say about me (said 'bout me) You do too much talkin', you a fed, prolly (fed, prolly) Drive-by in my pocket, got them dead bodies (dead bodies) My Goyard look like morgues, that's them dead bodies (dead bodies) R.I.P. (R.I.—) R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) 30 thousand, I just hit for three (I hit for three) R.I.P. (R.I.—) R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) Don't pay these bitches, she gon' fuck for free (she gon' fuck for free) R.I.P., R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) I'm in that foreign, that's like 60 G's (that's like 60 G's) R.I.P., R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) Dead prezis, I'm on a killin' spree (killin') Killin' spree (spree), covered in Supreme (yeah) Strapped with a beam, with them racks all in my jeans (all in my jeans) Brand new Benz (Benz), that's a hundred G's (a hundred G's) If I drop 20, I'll most likely hit for three (yeah, yeah) Foreign keys, droppin' the top when I hop in the Bentley I'm takin' the doors off the Lamb', these niggas be hatin', they say that it's rented (rented) Overseas, .38 Baby, deposit, they sent it (sent it) I'm takin' off 23, no Michael Jordan, I cover myself in Givenchy I do too much flexin', what they say about me (what they say about me) Dead prezis in my pocket, that's your head, prolly (that's your head prolly) He do too much talkin', he on meds, prolly (he on meds, prolly) But I'm screamin' fuck them niggas and what they say about me 'Cause I'm steady hollerin' R.I.P. (R.I.—) R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) 30 thousand (thousand), I just hit for three (I hit for three) R.I.P. (R.I.—) R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) Don't pay these bitches, she gon' fuck for free (she gon' fuck for free) R.I.P., R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P., hey) I'm in that foreign, that's like 60 G's (that's like 60 G's) R.I.P., R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) Dead prezis (dead), I'm on a killin' spree (killin') Catch him down bad, he sleep, stackin' bodies outta reach Black coupe look like DK's] gang full of hyenas Sippin' on drank, I'm gettin' paranoid, what's that noise? (Woo!) Fuckin' on somebody's bitch tonight, it's yours, is it yours? (Which one) Smokin' on cookie blunts so much you smell it out my pores (smell it) I got this dick on me now and I don't wanna shoot, but you feelin' the sword MC Hammer like Thor (hammer time), she wanna fuck, sure I shit on your cow manure, empty my clip and my wrist is sore We want action All my niggas in the field, nigga, what's happenin'? Laws of attraction Hit him with the butt of the steel like I'm baseball battin', never subtractin' P-90 hit, no kick, it split and turn your ass to a fraction My wrist is list, I'm Mr. Drippy-Drip, I'm givin' out classes R.I.P. (R.I.—) R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) 30 thousand, I just hit for three (I hit for three) R.I.P. (R.I.—) R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) Don't pay these bitches, she gon' fuck for free (she gon' fuck for free) R.I.P., R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) I'm in that foreign, that's like 60 G's (that's like 60 G's) R.I.P., R.I.-R.I.P. (R.I.P.) Dead prezis, I'm on a killin' spree (killin')
Writer(s): Kiari Cephus, Norman Payne, Kentrell Gaulden Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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