Music Video

A Boogie Wit da Hoodie - Blood On My Denim [Official Audio]
Watch A Boogie Wit da Hoodie - Blood On My Denim [Official Audio] on YouTube

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
A Boogie wit da Hoodie
A Boogie wit da Hoodie
Vocals
JoeFromYO
JoeFromYO
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Artist Julius Dubose
Artist Julius Dubose
Songwriter
Joseph Zoumboulias
Joseph Zoumboulias
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Frank Holland
Frank Holland
Assistant Recording Engineer
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Alex Estevez
Alex Estevez
Mixing Engineer
JoeFromYO
JoeFromYO
Producer
AJ Ruined My Record
AJ Ruined My Record
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I thought every girl I had was the one, but she was not it
Ninety-nine percent of bitches be thottin' (Thottin')
If I do the same thing, you'll say I'm not shit (Not shit)
I could do the same thing, you'll leave me cryin' (Cryin')
She got a little deeper through the process (Process)
Still addicted to the streets, can't hide it (Hide it)
Walk around with two Glizzys in my pocket
Already cocked it, flip a **** like a socket (Socket)
****, way before the fame, we was wildin'
Then they killed my **** Quado from the projects (Projects)
And it's a shame, all the bitches that was curvin'
I see the same damn names in my comments (Comments)
[Verse 2]
She was lookin' O.D. from a side eye
Said she ain't a eater, oh, she lied, oh, she lied-lied
Woke up to three bitches in my bed
Made me say it three times, "Oh, you fine, oh, you fine-fine"
I ain't rockin' wit' no hoe ****, or a bozo
That's a no-no, ****, nah, nah
I know they love my fly, the way I rock Dolce and Gabanna
I lost my **** to the streets when it coulda been me
It's fucked up, they either dead or doin' fed time
Boy, you all about your bread, so am I
If it's money on your mind, .45 to your hairline
And I keep it by the dresser
That's for any bitch who ever try to break my heart, I won't let ya
Still got blood on my denims
That was all the blood that was in him
No more love in a ****
[Verse 3]
No more love in a ****
But I swear her company made me so comfortable
I don't fuck with her (Yeah)
The way she fuck with me, and it's probably 'cause I'm from the X
Where they take for respect
Thought I woulda been into the grave on my death
Same fit for a week, now I hate Nike tech
Now, I'm a trendsetter, from my sweater to my hat
Biggs put me on the big-ass purple Puma jet
I'm flexin' more than ever, she like, "Money make me wet"
And if I die, I'ma die for my respect
Bury me with like a milli' on my neck, ah
[Verse 4]
She was lookin' O.D. from a side eye
Said she ain't a eater, but she lie all the time-time
I woke up to three bitches in my bed
Made me say it three times, like "You fine, oh, you fine-fine"
I ain't rockin' wit' no hoe ****, or a bozo
That's a no-no, ****, nah, nah
I know they love my fly, the way I rock Dolce and Gabanna
I lost my **** to the streets when it coulda been me
It's fucked up, they either dead or doin' fed time
Boy, you all about your bread, so am I
If it's money on your mind, .45 to your hairline
And I keep it by the dresser
Just in case a bitch every to to break my heart, I won't let ya
I still got blood on my denims
That was the blood that was in him
No more love in a ****
[Verse 5]
Run through it, all the bands that a **** got
I wonder if the streets still care about me
Long story, I can never really talk about it
I'm numb to it, I stand still when I hear shots
I'm numb to it, I stand still when I hear shots
I hear **** talkin' 'bout the money that they don't got
I used to be up on the corner with my young akh
Now, I go buy a couple pounds of the fronto
I still smoke it by the pound, I get dumb high
I still smoke it by the pound, like a rasta
I send money to my **** sittin' up, yeah
I send money to my daughter, she's a rugrat
I been through it, but I'm not givin' up, yeah
I switch up on different cars, now they upset
Written by: Artist Julius Dubose, Joseph Zoumboulias
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