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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
JID
Vocals
J. Cole
Vocals
Vince Staples
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
J. Cole
Songwriter
Vince Staples
Songwriter
Destin Route
Songwriter
Kalon Berry
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kal Banx
Producer
Christo
Producer
Juro "Mez" Davis
Mixing Engineer
Joe LaPorta
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
You don't give a damn, then we don't give a fuck
On God, I been waitin' for one of y'all
Pussy **** to buck
Still starvin', ribs touchin'
Touch the team and you get touched
Like homescreen buttons
Hoes scream loud, Jennifer Hudson when them things start bustin'
[Verse 2]
Alright, shit talk and slick talk
Pissed off, stick talk
Diss track, get mad
Rap ****, big trash
Yo squad, my squad
Mismatch, piss ants
Cheese chase, gym rats
Picture paint, Rembrandts
Tree trunk, thin branch
I leave, come back
[Verse 3]
This fall, diss all y'all **** I came up with
My what a bit of a change up
These **** lame, we in minimal danger
I got the banger, you give me the next my ****
Put me in the game and I'm ready to play
I'm anxious, put the mothafuckin' bank on it
[Verse 4]
Big nuts, hangin', big bucks, bringin', fuck 'em all
No slut shamin', money in the Cayman, I'm appalled
**** swear they bangin', feds got 'em sangin', on the squad
Crack rock slangin', on blacktop pavement, tryna ball
Line 'em up, on the wall, breathe deep, final call
Knee deep, squeeze three, beep-beep, Tylenol
Pulled up, one deep, no squad, just me
Just God, no prob
[Verse 5]
Real **** tend to fuck with me
No jewellery, no stunt from me
Just a Bentley truck, and a empty cup
Or whatever that is
You too concerned 'bout how clever that is
Me? I'm concerned how much bread that it is
Or lettuce that is, I been got my momma
I'll get off of this, I'm, fuckin' the game
You **** is lame, you won't even get a lil head out of this
Bet I'm a miss, you **** is dense
My hits goin' over the fence
How is you **** so rich? I'm not so convinced
My wrist costed more than your whip
And I don't wear that no more, that shit there look tacky
Yeah I'm the GOAT, no **** don't at me
Put on your coat, the world gon' get colder
This is my year, don't say I ain't told ya ****
[Verse 6]
You don't give a damn, then we don't give a fuck
On God, I been waitin' for one of y'all
Pussy **** to buck
Still starvin', ribs touchin'
Touch the team and you get touched
Like homescreen buttons
Hoes scream loud, Jennifer Hudson when them things start bustin'
[Verse 7]
Ay, ay ****, ay, ay
Ay, yo, uh-uh
Ay, yo
Ay ain't this that? Um
Ay ain't this the Dreamville shit? This the, um
[Verse 8]
I had a dream, I had a Glock
I had a Beam, run it back
I had a dream, she in Celine
I'm in Supreme, run it back
Yeah I had the dream, I had the guap
I hit the green, run it back
Ready to go, ready to score
Ready for war, run it back
I'm finna bring the summer back
I'm finna bring the Hummer back
Snuck my gun in the function
I bust, he not comin' back
Dummy racks, hundred stacks
Police killed 'bout a hundred blacks
Don't get killed tryna run a lap
**** don't get killed tryna run a
Written by: Jermaine Cole, Destin Route, Vincent Staples. Kalon Berry