Upcoming Concerts for Raekwon, Pusha T, Common, 2 Chainz, CyHi, Kid Cudi & D'banj
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Raekwon
Vocals
Pusha T
Vocals
Common
Vocals
2 Chainz
Vocals
CyHi
Vocals
Kid Cudi
Vocals
D'banj
Vocals
Che Pope
Programming
Andrea Martin
Vocals
Che Vicious
Programming
Plain Pat
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Andrea Martin
Composer
Kanye West
Composer
Jeff Bhasker
Composer
Travis Scott
Composer
Cydel Young
Composer
Corey Woods
Composer
Terrence Thornton
Composer
Lonnie Lynn
Composer
Tauheed Epps
Composer
Alan Jay Lerner
Composer
Frederick Loewe
Composer
Ramon Ibanga Jr
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Noah Goldstein
Recording Engineer
Julian Nixon
Producer
Kanye West
Producer
Illmind
Producer
Jeff Bhasker
Producer
Travis Scott
Producer
Richard Parry
Assistant Recording Engineer
Christian Mochizuki
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Eric Kelekolio
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Gaylord Holomalia
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Rob Kinelski
Recording Engineer
Lyrics
Stutterin'
Givin'em rest and makin' love again
In my best I be the run again
And I have the man dem stutterin'
I'm getting this nigga in the morning
He gon' think he been chiefin just too long when
He see me in the evenin'
Want to catch all these feelin
Well let me be the first to get mine
Ay yo, ay yo, barbeque and blow in the back of the crib
Sittin'and countin', smoking a spliff, this shit's a gift
All my niggas watches is rough
Grabbing our crotches yelling "What up?"
The jeans cost $500? Fuck
Stop it, keep baking, see, the smell it's a statement
One freeze of this shit, you won't feel your legs kid
I'm a gangsta corporate hustla, my voice is illustrious
Hounded by vicious dons, nigga we armed, trust me bruh
They yellin' Chef, kill the plate with the cooks
I say 'Ye with 2 Chainz on, we Common, let's Push
Burn another bush, then burn another we brothers
Love us or not, the Mark Zuckerbergs of the block
Hug a knot, staying rich, we was built for the guap
Park the green six deuce on the deuce just props
Rock a kilt, mean Glock I'm all machinery, ock
Cling to me, now see how the scenery rock?
I'm getting this nigga in the morning
He gon' think he been chiefin just too long when
He see me in the evenin'
Want to catch all these feelin
Well let me be the first to get mine
I was born by a lake, chicken shack, and a church
That mean the flow got wings and it come from the dirt
Golly, I know she wanna test the 'Rari
Eye on a dollar like Illuminati
Life is foggy, tryin' to see through the mist of it
Could have been livin' it, you was Mrs. Mischievous
This is just a letter to better your development
Situation delicate
Some claim God body, blame Illuminati
All cause his pockets now knotty as his hair
Yeah
All Sonny no Cher, only solitaires
You clusterfucks could cluster up
On tippy-toe and still not muster up so its
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
In God we trust, the game is all us
Til' the sky calls or its flames on us
Push
I'm getting this nigga in the morning
He gon' think he been chiefin just too long when
He see me in the evenin'
Want to catch all these feelin
Well let me be the first to get mine
2 Chainz
I'm chillin' in my camo, flippin' through the channel
On my G.O.O.D. Music shit, my logo's a Lambo (damn)
Four doors of ammo
Ammunition I'm pitchin' to make your body switch another position
I hope the people is listening
I could never sell my soul, I gave it back to God at my christening
Its tickelin' when I hear what haters be whisperin'
What makes you think an Illuminati would ever let some niggas in?
Fake friends and siblings, like to wish you well but ain't never flip the nickel in
Haters wanna pull they pistol when they see me in this race car
But you can't spell war without an A-R
15 I was pushing carts at K-Mart
By 21 they said I'd be inside a graveyard
Can't wait to get that black American Express
So I can show them white folks how to really pull the race card
Yeah, you feelin' on top now, getting that money nigga?
(You sold your soul)
Yeah, you feelin' on top now, getting that money nigga?
(You sold your soul)
Yeah, you feelin' on top now, getting that money nigga?
(Naw man, mad people was frontin'
Aw man, made something from nothing)
I treat the label like money from my shows
G.O.O.D. would've been God except I added more o's
If I knew she was cheatin' I'd still've bought her more clothes
'Cause I was too busy with my Baltimore- you know
Some people call that the art of war you know
I guess it depends what you fallin' for
The clothes,cars, money, girls and the clothes
Aw money, you sold your soul
Nah man, mad people was frontin'
God damn, we made something from nothing
Writer(s): Cydel Charles Young, Frederick Loewe, Kanye Omari West, Travis Scott, Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Andrea Martin, Scott Ramon Seguro Mescudi, Terrence Thornton, Che Smith, Corey Todd Woods, Jeffrey Bhasker, Alan Jay Lerner, Ramon Jr. Ibanga, Tauheed Epps
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