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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Memphis Bleek
Memphis Bleek
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Graham Preskett
Graham Preskett
Songwriter
Justin Gregory Smith
Justin Gregory Smith
Songwriter
Malik Cox
Malik Cox
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Just Blaze
Just Blaze
Producer
David Brown
David Brown
Recording Engineer
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Yea, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I come from bottom to the top
I seen a lotta **** fall
Top to the bottom, 'cause they flow wasn't hot (hot)
Them **** swore they was chillin, reality they not (not)
That's why I'm in the spot, treat the stu like the pot
I'm cheffin' up that product, get my strip back in order
Hit records, it's like a brick, 16 is like a quarter
That's why I'm tryna flip it, this time I'ma do it different
Mixtapes is like a fiend, **** givin' free hits and
You **** let 'em sample it, never give 'em the work
Now his tape better than your album, sales lookin' hurt
I'm tryna take it back in the day, when it was twenty time
Industry is fucked up, they back to sellin' **** dimes
Singles is nickles, lotta albums done flopped
Lotta labels been dropped, you was signed, now you not (nah)
That's why I never play with the position I'm held with
Who lie about sellin' drugs? Album ain't sell shit, ****
Yo, you heard the title, **** (5-3-4) yeah
I'm that same cat with the fofo long
You **** bust shots (yeah) but you throw yours wrong
Who flow like Bleek? Think, no other
You heard the title, **** (5-3-4)
**** didn't want that (yeah) I'm still where you pump at
You catch me (yeah) on anybody block, how you love that?
I'm 'bout to have this thing on lock, you can't tell me different (nah)
I got the soft and hard top, you could tell I'm livin'
I got that raa on my lap, just don't tell the snitches
They got they tail between they legs, you could tell they bitches
It ain't no heaven for a G, go to hell with it
My life is deep, motherfuckers please delve in it
Started with promo, no homo, movin' 12 inches
Pimp the game, comin' of age at 12, bitches
That's when I had well-wishes
**** call me prince of the city
Next in line for the king of new-yitty, pity
How the same **** that bailed with me, bailed on me?
Took too many pulls of the L on me
Drank up all the Kool-Aid, left glasses in my kitchen
Food for thought, my **** you do the dishes
Know the game and the name, I ain't change for shit
Yo, you heard the title, **** (5-3-4) yeah
I'm that same cat with the fofo long
You **** bust shots (yeah) but you throw yours wrong
Who flow like Bleek? Think, no other
You heard the title, **** (5-3-4)
**** didn't want that, I'm still where you pump at
You catch me on anybody block, how you love that?
Written by: G. Preskett, J. Smith, M. Cox
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