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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
ScHoolboy Q
ScHoolboy Q
Vocals
Cardo Got Wings
Cardo Got Wings
Drums
Mark Spears
Mark Spears
Drums
Daveon Jackson
Daveon Jackson
Drums
Tim Gomringer
Tim Gomringer
Synthesizer
Kevin Gomringer
Kevin Gomringer
Synthesizer
Jay Rock
Jay Rock
Vocals
Kendrick Lamar
Kendrick Lamar
Vocals
Ab-Soul
Ab-Soul
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tim Gomringer
Tim Gomringer
Songwriter
Kevin Gomringer
Kevin Gomringer
Songwriter
Quincy Hanley
Quincy Hanley
Songwriter
Ronald LaTour
Ronald LaTour
Songwriter
Kanye West
Kanye West
Songwriter
Cardo Got Wings
Cardo Got Wings
Songwriter
Cydel Young
Cydel Young
Songwriter
Mark Spears
Mark Spears
Songwriter
Noah Goldstein
Noah Goldstein
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Cardo Got Wings
Cardo Got Wings
Producer
YeX
YeX
Producer
Cubeatz
Cubeatz
Producer
Mark Spears
Mark Spears
Additional Producer

Lyrics

[Chorus]
Me no conversate with the fake, that part
All my bitches independent bitches, that part
I just want the paper, that part
All my bitches flavored
That part, that part, that part, that part, aye
[Verse 1]
It's impossible to love it if you don't come from it
It's things that goes on, you just can't stomach
I seen it all happen but I ain't saying nada
Peep, 24/7 in the hood, it's hot
If you wanna fall through, get Top on the phone
He don't pick up, then it ain't bool
Let you know it ain't good to stop
That part, that part (That part)
I'm a Watts **** and we not kosher
Shit, ****'s only concern is the bottom line like a stockholder
This is where they come, where they copping boulders
Hoes catfight with their tits exposed
Still sipping on that Wild Irish Rose
Still rock swap, meet designer clothes, agh
Black MAC-11 in my mattress
Make a hundred racks, do a backflip
Might go Uncle Luke on them hoes
Pussy pop for a bankroll, yeah
[Verse 2]
All my killers with me got a blank face, yeah
On that, fuck you bitch, where the pay-pay?
Make 'em pull up on your block with them 2-2
Aim it at your face, hey
Moving with the rock and the Glock concealers
You either selling rock or you flock to get it
You either on the watch where the clock is ticking
The life of my Watts and my Bompton ****
Get pinched, I'ma post a bond
Know P-O-P gon' hold it down
Look, need cash, gotta get you some
If a hater tell you money ain't everything
He don't want you to get none
So we thugging like DMX, bleed shit, P.M.S.
Point blank, period, meet me on the E.S.
I'm fully with the B.S., believe that
[Verse 3]
And we don't stress a .38 till it free your chest
Then pee-pee on the P.O.'s desk
I'm Jay-Z in the blow out press
Relate me to your blowout's best
Can heat me, I'm remote, you're deaf
I'm HD causing photo theft, my A.C. antifreeze gotta (That part)
Hold your breath, I'm eight feet when I hold this TEC
Protect me from the local threats
My I.D. said my eye don't rest, my I.V. qualify T-rex
Society kept my I.Q. vexed
Denyin' me from my Ivy School
Applyin' me to the street I slept
I quietly had to hold this tool
Reminding me of the block I repped
The turf I stepped, the church and the earth I blessed
The first I guessed, the alert was the murk I chef
That hearse, the flirt with perks of a kill confessed
Dispersed the worst, the first 48 addressed
The search and loss of verse of the birth I nest
The uh, the awe, the curse of the poet's incest
The good, the flaws, the pain to reverse what's left
[Chorus]
Me no conversate with the fake, that part
All my bitches independent bitches, that part
I just want the paper, that part
All my bitches flavored
That part, that part, that part, that part, aye
[Verse 4]
Zest god, zest god, zest god, zest god
Lamborghini high, cream soda with the Wockhardt
Soulo Ho3 the prophet, yeah, Soulo hold the profit
That's the fortune teller making withdrawals and deposits
Ironic, they wanna know where I've been in
Where the fuck I've been hiding in?
When the fuck am I dropping that?
New work that take 'em to church and
Turn the universe upside down again
Since you're so smart
I can't get on my groove till we get the Q first
You and I will not heed
My pool of thought is large enough to part the Red Sea
Father forgive 'em, for they know not know who they see
I got all eyes on me, call me 3-Pac, Soulo
[Bridge]
Hang on, ****, let me get some
Hang on, ****
Hang on
[Verse 5]
Mmm, made a mill and I spent it in the same day
Got a chopper, not the A.K.
Getting money on the vacay
Go go gadget's in the driveway
Groovy Tony in July 8th
Yeah, I'm killing kitties on a Sunday
How you balling in a Hyundai?
My Ferrari got a toupee
Swerve in a big body
Your favorite artist, I'm his big homie
Yeah, I'm walking with a fifth and I ain't voting, I'm a crip, homie
I'm where the Bloods, where them Loc's at
Where the blood, where the choke 'round, gloves for the combat
How the Feds in your contacts?
How the Feds know my set name?
Fled in the Mulsanne
Hydrate up the rap game
Heard Soulo coming up next
And SZA got a classic, ****
Heard Zay just got it mastered, uh
The fire burning through the plastic, so fingers to the badges
They don't love you till the racks evolve
When I was broke, they wouldn't accept the call
Now they on my for my decimals, blank faces, gotta X 'em off
Enemies gotta bob and weave
Gang-banging like we stand for something
When Alton Sterling getting killed for nothing
Two cowards in the car, they're just there to film
Saying Black Lives Matter, should've die with him
Wrong **** in your hood, you gon' ride on him
White **** with a badge, you gon' let that slide?
Tell me how they sent that footage off and slept that night
I feel bad that my daughter gotta live this life
I'll die for my daughter, gotta fight this fight
Put our Blank Face on, ****, let that drop (That, that, that part)
Written by: Brock Korsan, Daveon Jackson, Herbert Stevens, Johnny McKinzie, Kanye West, Kendrick Lamar, Kevin Gomringer, Mark Spears, Quincy Hanley, Ronald LaTour, Tim Gomringer
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