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