Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Vocals
Buddah Bless
Buddah Bless
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kentrell Gaulden
Kentrell Gaulden
Songwriter
Ty-Ron Douglas
Ty-Ron Douglas
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Buddah Bless
Buddah Bless
Producer

Lyrics

[Intro]
Buddah Bless this beat
[Chorus]
I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006
All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks
And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense
He a million dollar **** but be posted in the bricks, uh
It make no sense, yeah, it make no sense, uh
It make no sense, goddamn, make no sense, yeah, uh
Make no sense, nah, uh, make no sense, aye-aye, YoungBoy
Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime
[Verse 1]
I could hit it, I could whip it, I could bag it, I could stash it
I could trap out like a motherfucker
And you know me, bitch, I just bought another 30 burner (30 burner)
I whip too hard, so I got Ike and Meech, got Tina Turner (Whippin' hard)
It don't make sense, I'm not alright, bitch, I'll put you under
I ain't cut too much, I got that shit that make 'em tweak like damn
Can't be in front the trap too much, the world know who I am (I am)
This shit ain't sweet, who close to me, I see 'em hatin' like damn
All I know get the money, still gon' be the one to slay 'em
Like ****, uh, ****
****, bitch, ****, baow, with my jewelry (Fuck the jury)
[Chorus]
I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006
All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks
And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense
He a million dollar **** but be posted in the bricks, uh
It make no sense, yeah, it make no sense, uh
It make no sense, goddamn, make no sense, yeah, uh
Make no sense, nah, uh, make no sense, aye-aye, YoungBoy
Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime
[Verse 2]
4KTrey, BoB, I been that, bitch, you notice me
Tell them **** I say fuck 'em
These hoes ain't shit, they want my cash, so I'll never love 'em (Stupid bitch)
I flash and beat a **** ass with this fifty ball (I don't need no clique)
On TV, I could tell my youngin' hit him with the cutter (Motherfuck a ****)
That's a bar, real **** blessed him with that bar and he say yeah-eah
He out the H, you play, he shoot you in your face (Northside)
Bullets flying, back to back, bitch, when we ride
I'm convicted, but it's an issue, I'll slide for a slide
Die today, bitch, they say four pussy **** died 'fore I died, slime
[Chorus]
I feel like I'm Gucci Mane in 2006
All these diamonds dancing on my fucking neck cost like four bricks
And the way that I be toting on that strap don't make no sense
He a million dollar **** but be posted in the bricks, uh
It make no sense, yeah, it make no sense, uh
It make no sense, goddamn, make no sense, yeah, uh
Make no sense, nah, uh, make no sense, aye-aye, YoungBoy
Make no sense, nah, it make no sense, slime
Written by: Buddah Bless, Kentrell Gaulden
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