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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lil Wayne
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Nikhil Seetharam
Composer
D. Carter
Composer
Tauheed Epps
Composer
Tyler Williams
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
T-Minus
Producer
Nikhil Seetharam
Co-Producer
Michael “BANGER” Cadahia
Recording Engineer
Andy Rodriguez
Assistant Recording Engineer
Fabian Marascuillo
Mixing Engineer
Stephen McDowell
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
Ugh, AK on my nightstand, right next to that Bible
But I swear with these 50 shots, I'll shoot it out with Five-O
Pockets gettin' too fat, no Weight Watchers, no lipo
Money talks, bull-ish walks on a motherf- tightrope
And I make that-that-that tap out, I knock that out-out-out cold
And you get beat the crap out, but that's just how the dice roll
These h- want that hose-pipe, so I give all these h- pipe
She get on that an-and stay on, all night, like porch lights
Let's do it, f- talking, we out here, we ballin'
And I'm spraying at these rusty n- like WD-40
We f- up, we Truk'd up, no if, ands, or butt-go
Go, go, go behind your back like nunchucks, and that's f- up
But my h- down, my cups up, my n- down for whatever
But these b- think they're too fly, well, tell them h- I pluck feathers
I'm Tunechi, Young Tunechi, I wear Trukfit, f- Gucci
She blowing kisses at me with her lip-lip-lips, smooches
And that's 2 Chainz
Look at you (aw), now look at us
All my n- look rich as- (yeah)
All my n- live rich as- (yeah)
All-all my n- look rich as- (yeah)
Look at you (look at you), now look at us (now look at us)
All my n- look rich as-
All my-all my n- look rich as-
All my-all-all my ni-
Ugh, never talk to the cops, I don't speak Pig Latin
I turnt a penny to a motherf- Janet Jackson
Tell the b- that be hatin' I ain't got no worries
I just want to hit and run like I ain't got insurance
What's your name? What's your sign? Zodiac Killer
All rats gotta die, even Master Splinter
Yeah, murder 187
I be killing them b-, I hope all dogs go to heaven
And I got Xanax, Percocet, promethazine with codeine
Call me Mr. Sandman, I'm sellin' all these h- dreams
Got a white girl with big-, flat-, TV screen
I keep a bad b-, call me the B.B. King
And you know I got that mouth out her
Then put that b- out like a house fire
I'm killing these- like Michael Myers
I eat that cat just like a lion
And I can't trust none of these n-
Can't trust none of these h-
And I see your girl when I want
I got that-that TiVo'd, ugh
Got a red- b- with a red-
Try-try me, that's a dead-
Since y'all motherf- so blind to the fact
To tell you the truth, I don't care who's lookin'
All I know is I love my b-
And feel-feel just like Heaven on earth
Six feet deep, d- shovelin' the dirt
R-I-P, rest in-
Light that ish, then pass that ish
We gon' get so smoked out
And then I went, got locked up
Every night, I dreamt I broke out
One time for them p- n-
That's that ish I don't like
We eatin' over here n-
F- around and have a food fight
And that's 2 Chainz
Look at you (uh), now look at us (yeah)
All my n- look rich as f- (what?)
All my n- look rich as f- (what?)
All-all my n- look rich as f- (yeah)
(Ayo, f- all y'all b-, straight up)
Look at you, now look at us
(Any b- out there that ain't never wanna give me no p-)
All my n- look rich as f-
(F- you in your as-ho-, b-)
All my-all my n- live rich as-
All my-all-all my-my look rich as-
And your n- a h-
Written by: D. Carter, Nikhil Seetharam, Tauheed Epps, Tyler Williams