Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Pop Smoke
Pop Smoke
Rap
Rico Beats
Rico Beats
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bashar Barakah Jackson
Bashar Barakah Jackson
Songwriter
Marcin Gerek
Marcin Gerek
Songwriter
Bartosz Welka
Bartosz Welka
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jaycen Joshua
Jaycen Joshua
Mixing Engineer
Yung Ave
Yung Ave
Recording Engineer
Christopher Ulrich
Christopher Ulrich
Recording Engineer
Vic Wainstein
Vic Wainstein
Recording Engineer
Yo-Z
Yo-Z
Producer
Madara Beatz
Madara Beatz
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
My PTSD startin' to kick in, so I gotta get high
Uh, uh, ay
[Verse 2]
My PTSD startin' to kick in, so I gotta get high
Trey shot that **** out my car, so now I gotta get low
I ain't no city boy 'cause I love my ****
We could, but that don't mean that I don't love my ****
**** tried to smack me up, so now I'm raisin' hell
Don't try and dap me, lil' ****, you are not my bro
Trey shot that **** out my car, so now I gotta get low
They know we bend blocks, welcome to the party
[Verse 3]
Dot on the head of his only daughter
Then I dunk her head in that holy water
**** shootin', we gon' shoot back
Sittin' at the table like Tha Carter 5
They know I'ma do you, aimin' for medulla
Cooler than a cooler, shooter with a shooter
AK on my shoulder like I'm Malcom X
'Cause I ain't goin' out like I'm Martin Luther
**** open up the door, ****, I know you home
It's a hundred Crip **** standin' on your lawn
Gave up that cheese, get that provolone
And I ain't talkin' on the phone 'cause I ain't playin' with 'em
I got a K for the cuz if he hit you
If I call Nappy Blue, he come and get you
Call Dread, that's the new Tom Brady
'Cause he be sendin' shots like it's missile
[Verse 4]
My PTSD startin' to kick in, so I gotta get high
Trey shot that **** out my car, so now I gotta get low
I ain't no city boy 'cause I love my ****
We could, but that don't mean that I don't love my ****
**** tried to smack me up, so now I'm raisin' hell
Don't try and dap me up, lil' ****, you are not my bro
Trey shot that **** out my car, so now I gotta get low
They know we bend blocks, welcome to the party
[Verse 5]
**** always talkin' hot and runnin' they mouth
Until I kick down they door and run in they house
Have they mother on the floor with a gun in her mouth
Like what's that **** up on the 'net your son was talkin' 'bout?
I put that on my son that I'ma take it there
'Cause when you come from where I come, I ain't playin' fair
My lil' homie die and I ain't drop a tear
I just rolled a spliff and put it in the air
I'm big 092, **** know I'm Woo
I look a **** in his face like, "Who you talkin' to?"
I need 25K or I ain't walkin' through
I need 25K or I ain't walkin' through
I spent twenty on my wrist and twenty on a chain
I be spoiling myself, so I can ease the pain
Digital dash, I be switchin' lanes
I was sittin' on the bench, but now I'm in the game
[Verse 6]
My PTSD startin' to kick in, so I gotta get high
Trey shot that **** out my car, so now I gotta get low
I ain't no city boy 'cause I love my ****
We could, but that don't mean that I don't love my ****
**** tried to smack me up, so now I'm raisin' hell
Don't try and dap me, lil' ****, you are not my bro
Trey shot that **** out my car, so now I gotta get low
They know we bend blocks, welcome to the party
Written by: Marcin Gerek, Bashar Barakah Jackson, Andre Michael Loblack, Bartosz Jakub Welka
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