Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tee Grizzley
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Angel López
Songwriter
Federico Vindver
Songwriter
Terry Wallace
Songwriter
Timothy Mosley
Songwriter
Adam Laszlo
Songwriter
Christoph Bauss
Songwriter
Jordan Houston
Songwriter
Patrick Houston
Songwriter
Paul Beauregard
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Angel López
Producer
Federico Vindver
Producer
Shucati
Producer
Timbaland
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
(You know everything a **** say be facts man, like)
(I hope they don't play this shit in court one day)
(If you look up some of the stories in my city)
(You will see the relation between the music)
[Verse 2]
Everybody with me clumsy
We all be droppin' shit
Droppin' ****, droppin' icicles, fuck a bitch, drop her at her momma crib
Not with the gossipin', we do that robbin' shit
Any means, I'm gon' eat
Slide with the tank on full
Leave with the Glock on E
[Verse 3]
I got a K, it hold a hunnid
But I got lazy, only put 90
Money make your whole team vanish
That's a paper trick, Origami
I be dolo, don't need a posse
If you got the wave, I got the tsunami
Chain hit like Ike Turner
But I don't beat bitches, I beat bodies
I just buss' the Chain Reactions just to stump a **** in Versace
Call me Martin, I stay with the Tommy
You lookin' for me, pussy? Come find me
And I'm not gon' snatch your chain
I'm gon' take it off politely
So when I go back to sell it, it's not damaged, not even slightly
Raised 'round killers, that's how I'm cut
Find out where he stay, I don't shoot the house up
Lay in that bush till you lames lock up
Whoever walk outside first drop somethin'
Lift that chopper, go nuts
That was his momma? So what?
**** that's your fault, we wanted your blood
And your bitch take dick like a grown up
I'm a product of them streets
Sharks and hustlers, I'm from the deep
Bring a **** to the feast
We not stingy, homey, eat
He get greedy, put him to sleep
They gotta identify him by his teeth
We gon' kill you if you freeze when your job was to squeeze, ****
[Verse 4]
(I'm here slangin' on display)
[Verse 5]
I got a Uzi and it sound like, uh (Boom)
I got a Draco and it sound like (Boom)
Sheesh
Knock your shit open, the bullets explosive
Fall and you get stood over
Can't run outta bullets in a shoot out
Takin' my time, countin' as I'm blowin'
Yeah, drumsticks
Guitar-sized AR's, we a little band
Rapper dissed me, I made every show like I'm his biggest fan
Hollows in that Sprinter van gon' leave somebody crippled, man
You see your DJ's brain come through his head, you will turn religious, man
Havin' my way
I'ma see what's up at the range, let's practice okay? (Let's practice okay?)
Dead bodies in the hood, pour acids on it for rapid decay
Granny don't even know the savage she raised, **** (Savage she raised ****)
200K get you took off the planet today **** (On my mother)
[Verse 6]
Ay, **** hoes, I don't feel 'em
Cut his head like a dick, let his homeboys deal him
Fuck who rockin' with him
Catch his bitch at the mall and she shoe-shoppin' ****
Don't let 'em die, just shoot out the windows
That's how I'm comin' (That's how I'm comin')
You not faster than no bullets, why is you runnin'? (Fuck is you runnin'?)
I be talkin' to my Glock like you be buggin' (Bitch you be trippin')
I put four G's on my drop, them bitches revvin' (Skrrt, skrrt)
They like, "Grizzley bro, you rich, why is you thuggin'?" (Why am I thuggin'?)
Big Meech was rich, ain't nobody ask him why was he hustlin' (Why is he hustlin'?)
What y'all need to ask is these **** why they be bluffin' (Fake ass ****)
Took my FN off my hip like, "You've been summoned"
Written by: Adam Lazlo, Angel López, Christoph Bauss, Federico Vindver, Jose Angel Velazquez, Luca Starz, Terry Wallace, Tim Friedrich, Timothy Mosley