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Shoreline Mafia - Mind Right (feat. Warhol.SS) [Official Music Video]
Watch Shoreline Mafia - Mind Right (feat. Warhol.SS) [Official Music Video] on YouTube

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Fenix Flexin
Fenix Flexin
Vocals
OhGeesy
OhGeesy
Vocals
Warhol.SS
Warhol.SS
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Angelo Glen Johnson
Angelo Glen Johnson
Songwriter
LaRon Robinson
LaRon Robinson
Songwriter
Zahir Myles
Zahir Myles
Songwriter
Alejandro Carranza
Alejandro Carranza
Songwriter
Fenix Rypinski
Fenix Rypinski
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
AceTheFace
AceTheFace
Producer
RonRon
RonRon
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I just popped a perc, get my mind right
Bitch, I want some money, not no limelight
Me and all my ****, we beyond tight
We ain't going back and forth, bitch, it's on sight
Ay, told that bitch, take your clothes off
Big 40 knock his nose off
She want a Gucci purse but I want some head
My **** in the county, boy, they eat bread
If a **** try to play me, we gon' leave him dead
I got tired of poppin' Molly so I'm poppin' X
[Verse 2]
Ooh, this a Oxy'
All these **** sweet like some toffee
Double cup, ****, I ain't sippin' coffee
Play with us, he get chipped like some Takis
You don't fuck her how I fuck her so she creeping on you
I told my ****, P Dawg, boy, they sleeping on you
Glock 19 but I hold fifty
I gotta keep a stick 'cause it get sticky
Like a math quiz, it gon' get tricky
I'm doin' drugs with the bitch like I'm Bobby, Whitney
[Verse 3]
Fenix Flexing countin' bankrolls
Boy, you **** fuckin' stank hoes
I been fuckin' on your main ho
Keep it real, that's the reason why you hate for
My Glock gay, it give him facials
I got a white bitch named Rachel
When she fuckin' on me it's interracial
I'm 'bout my paper like a **** went to Staples
[Verse 4]
You don't need a ****, raise your hands up
You with your best friend and you finna dance up
They playing City Girls so you finna act up
Drop it down to the floor, I throw them bands up
Ass fat, you gon' make it clap, huh?
In a function, ****, get your strap, huh?
We don't talk on the phone 'cause it's tapped, bruh
Heard she don't give no head but that's cap, bruh
[Verse 5]
Ay, she be givin' **** hella head
You done fucked up the re-up, owe me hella bread
I done sipped me a four of that medicine
I remember back when they wouldn't let us in
Now they tryna drop a bag just to get us in
I ain't the best, ****, tell me who is better then
I rock Truey, G Star and the Vetements
They done fucked up, let me bring Berettas in
[Verse 6]
Walked in with pistolas
I'll paint a **** red like Crayola
I been sippin' on that red, thought I told ya
Brand new Bape kicks like I'm Soulja
Ay, yeah, like I'm Soulja Boy
Still the same young ****, I'm just older, boy
Ay, yeah, like I'm Soulja Boy
Still the same young ****, I'm just older, boy
[Verse 7]
Ay, ice on, bitch, I'm froze up
I'm a joint in my city so she chose up
It cost like five, **** , pour a four up
And I just poured two, so I'm slowed up
I can't pop me no percs, I'ma throw up
It's going down, baby girl, we finna go up
She put her lips on my dick 'cause I blowed up
And I got ten bands when I showed up
[Verse 8]
I got money, codeine, and some dope
And a **** better watch for your ho
Two for ten, we can get it at the store
And my dawg got a line on the lows
Twenty-two up in the city for the bows, yeah, yeah
Countin' money so we keep the trap closed, yeah, yeah
If you coming on the block you pay the toll, uh-huh
Put that bitch on the X, make her roll, uh-huh
[Verse 9]
In the Hellcat with the fog lights
Got these VVs on me, givin' frostbite
Brought your bitch through, she givin' head all night
Ridin' real foreigns, got the name on exhaust pipe
We got choppers in the truck like the SWAT team
Slidin' down the runway, we'll leave your block clean
Ridin' with them thirties in the rack, we the Glock team
Shorty got a 40 in the back and it's not clean
[Verse 10]
Tell a **** cash out, I'ma leave him ass out
Pussy **** spooked, he ain't never seen a crackhouse
Had me with the vibes and we even got the back house
We apply the pressure to a ****, he get packed out
Hit a **** spot, lil' ****, where the safe at?
Leave a **** dead, now we see him there the tapes at, strike fast
When I beat a bitch, I be lookin' for a latex
Bro in that trap, so you know he made the cake stretch
Written by: Angelo Glen Johnson, Fenix Flexin, Fenix Rypinski, Jason Goolsby, LaRon Robinson, OhGeesy, Zahir Myles

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