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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rick Ross
Vocals
Dernst Emile II
Bass
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Byron Forest II
Songwriter
Alan Gorrie
Songwriter
FOREST BYRON
Writer
Hamish Stuart
Songwriter
Maurice Jordan
Songwriter
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Black Metaphor
Producer
Eddie Hernandez
Recording Engineer
John Rivers
Recording Engineer
Matthew Testa
Engineer
Ben Diehl
Engineer
Fabian Marasciullo
Mixing Engineer
Stephen McDowell
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Puff Daddy
Additional Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Y'all **** know what this is (Searchin', searchin')
If you don't know, finna break it down (Searchin')
[Verse 2]
I just up my style (Whoa, searchin')
Fuck them cops
If you love hip hop, bust them shots
Your man priceless if your man's loyal
Better give that man a raise and end up payin' for it
If you cut it, call it Jam Master Jay (Whoa, searchin')
No Adidas but I rock a brick a day
Talk about the jewels out a **** reach
****, please, so I came back with a bigger piece
You still smokin' weed or you car chase (Whoa, searchin')
Or pullin' off the car lot screamin', God's great
Before the crib, you gotta clear the God's gate
Elevators like Frank's on Scarface
New presidential had that pavé (Whoa, searchin')
Like a G, I gave that Cartier to Wale
Then I gave Meek Mill a Range Rover
Told Warner Brothers that the game's over
[Verse 3]
For me to move forward from here on I need fifty (Searchin', searchin')
I ain't talkin' 50 Cent neither, **** (Searchin', searchin')
[Verse 4]
Oh, I came back a rich **** (Whoa, searchin')
Young mogul, Bo Jackson, I'm a switch hitter
They want me face down on the pavement
Gang members claim I need to make a payment
It's hard for a young black executive (Whoa, searchin')
Can't you see we all fuckin' relatives?
Relatively easy, we could go to war
Fuck it, we could go to war
Chasin' me a hunnid million, that's inshallah (Whoa, searchin')
Fresh up out the Fed's system
Welcome home, Jabbar
I watch him pray five times a day, ****
Same one that used to move the 'yay, ****
AK's in his heyday, **** (Whoa, searchin')
Benz coupe, wood frames, low fade, ****
Got the cubans, got the boats, got the zoes , ****
Cocaine worth much more than gold, ****
[Verse 5]
So what's your goals, ****? (Searchin', searchin')
All my shit went gold, **** (Searchin')
[Verse 6]
Oh, I remember smokin' mid grade (Whoa, searchin')
Till I went and got my shit straight
I'm spittin' like this bitch a mixtape
Till they seen a ghost with a template
Sittin' in the trap blowin' thick smoke (Whoa, searchin')
Traffickin' my dope with a thick ho
Feds tore apart the squad, ****
That's why I had to play my part, ****
That wasn't me, It was a job, **** (Whoa, searchin')
It gets deeper, that was just a start, ****
Screamin' in my sleep, I know the Lord hear me
Death to you fuck boys, on my fourth Bentley
[Verse 7]
Whoa, gangsta, **** (Whoa, searchin')
Whoa, rich is gangsta, ****
This is gangsta, ****
Yeah, rich is gangsta, ****
[Verse 8]
(Searchin', searchin')
You know where we came from (Searchin')
Look where we at
[Verse 9]
Whoa searchin'
Searchin', searchin'
Searchin', searchin'
Written by: Alan Gorrie, Byron Forest II, FOREST BYRON, James Stuart, Maurice Jordan, William Roberts