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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tyga
Vocals
Jess Jackson
Keyboards
Rick Ross
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tyga
Composer
William Leonard Roberts II
Songwriter
Jess Jackson
Songwriter
Michael Stevenson
Songwriter
Trocon Roberts
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
FKi 1st
Producer
Jess Jackson
Mixing Engineer
John Rivers
Recording Engineer
Matt Anthony
Assistant Recording Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
I can feel it
[Verse 2]
T-Rawws, rock my own kick game
Eight figure deal, figure how I'm courtside at a Clip game
Still pop Ace, king shit, I'm with Rozay
Black Maybach, leather gloves on that OJ
Okay, the day you beatin' me, bitch, no day
Bands a make her dance, that's thousand dollar foreplay
AK get a full clip not a soundwave
You kissed her in her mouth, ask her how my dick taste
[Verse 3]
Bitch ****, you don't want no drama, I'm worth a couple commas
It's death before dishonor
Last King, come sign up, all my shit be designer
Extraordinary rhymer, I bodied yo' shit for nothin'
Wes, west up, hot temper
Get wet up, she give me head not neck up
Clean the mess up
One false move death from a gesture
Cash in the safe ****, I don't feel no pressure
[Verse 4]
I'm dope (Dope)
All my shit dope (Dope)
All my shit dope (Dope)
'Cause it's 187 how I'm killin' these hoes
All my shit dope (Dope)
All my shit dope (Dope)
(Maybach Music)
'Cause it's 187 how I'm killin' these hoes
[Verse 5]
H on the Buckle, Hermes and the hustle
Crown on the watch, young **** still thuggin'
8.7 on the crib, so, fuck it
Went gold in a month, so, it ain't no budget
New chains, Rolex links
New chick just to drag my mink
New car just to ride 'round here
Aviator crew, we flyest 'round here
Hatin' on who? **** dying 'round here
Bath Salt Boss, got insurance on the beard
Cars, rockstars, dope boys at odds
I done seen it all but we back to these broads
Hands clap like a **** in the stadium
Million dollar chain but I'm rockin' eight of 'em
I see you slippin', boy, don't make me pick your label up
Scottie Pippen on the dribble, I just laid 'em up
Another triple got me trippin' like it's angel dust
We just winnin', all the women at my table, ah
Say my name, say my name, ****, say my name
Hundred million dollar ****, ****, say my name
[Verse 6]
Dope
All my shit dope (Dope)
All my shit dope (Dope)
'Cause it's 187 how I'm killin' these hoes
All my shit dope (Dope)
All my shit dope (Dope)
'Cause it's 187 how I'm killin' these hoes
[Verse 7]
Chief rocka, pop, popper
Told her to pull them things out 'cause my car topless
Off topic, get on top it, what's your synopsis?
So sincere in her belly, that's that Nas shit
King announcin', that gangsta shit we mobbin'
We takin' your dollars, Creflo, no white collar
I, pop pop, wish a **** would, Carl Thomas
Bitch, I'm the bomb
Call me the Unabomber
Money in my game, I'm drivin' shit that's insane
You stay in your lane, no playin', ain't nothin' changed
Pardon this good regime, I make your girl David Blaine
Murder was the case, all the kids say, that T-T-raw
[Verse 8]
Dope (Ha-ha)
All my shit dope (Dope)
All my shit dope (Dope)
'Cause it's 187 how I'm killin' these hoes
All my shit (Dope)
All my shit dope (Dope)
'Cause it's 187 how I'm killin' these hoes
Written by: Andre Young, Calvin Broadus, Colin Wolfe, J. Jackson, M. Roberts, T. Markous Roberts, Tyga, William Leonard Roberts II