Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
King Von
King Von
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Darrell Jackson
Darrell Jackson
Songwriter
Dayvon Bennett
Dayvon Bennett
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
ChopSquad DJ
ChopSquad DJ
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and tore out his gristle
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile (Boom, boom)
He know I'm official
Doin' all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I'm get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine in the shoes, and can't nobody fit 'em
[Verse 2]
I popped a Perky, a thirty
I'm higher than the bitch, boy, ain't nobody perfect
If I take a L, I'm back on that corner
I'm hustlin', ain't nobody servin'
Get booked 'cause somebody workin'
He told, I know that for certain
Get caught, I'm closin' his curtains
We scored another conversion (Boom, boom)
Designer, Givenchy
All of this ice on my wrist and it feel like it's Christmas
Speaking of Christmas, come get your ho
I be climbin' all up in her chimney
We sharin' the ho if she friendly
Ain't see him, he gone, he missin'
Won't see me in the back of a Bentley (What? What?)
Hop out and I'm blowin', it's rented (Boom, boom)
[Verse 3]
Walk up, ain't doin' no drive-bys (Nah)
You MVP, that bitch my sideline (Nah, nah)
Just a wild lil' **** from the Southside
**** killed your homie, you don't even come outside (What? What?)
Fucked your bitch on purpose (Uh-huh)
Them bows came in, we workin'
My song come on, she twerkin'
All the opps be broke, they hurtin' (They broke ass)
[Verse 4]
My ****, they too official (Uh-huh)
Send a text, they get right with you
Y'all was somewhere playin' Monkey in the Middle
We was tryna put on for some guns when I was little
If he still alive, we gon' meet 'em and then split 'em
On the jail call, gotta talk in a riddle
Ho said she love me, she gon' tat my initials
**** move foul, get to blowin' like a whistle (Boom, boom)
Fuck that, let's talk about Louis, Amiri, and Gucci, and Prada, and shit (Boom, boom)
When I go to the store
They closin' the door and they bringin' me bottles and shit (Yeah, yeah)
Fuck that, let's talk about that lil' 150 I spent with my lawyer and shit
My gun don't punch, it kick (Boom)
Get with the shit or get hit in your shit (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
[Verse 5]
Pull up and get him
That bullet ripped through his tissue and tore out his gristle (Boom)
It was the nickel, and it's a Glock
And that bitch sound like a missile (Boom, boom)
He know I'm official
Doin' all that woofin' and shit, boy, you know I'm get you
And wasn't nobody with him
I wore a nine in the shoes, and can't nobody fit 'em
[Verse 6]
Walk up, ain't doin' no drive-bys (Nah)
You MVP, that bitch my sideline (Nah, nah)
Just a wild lil' **** from the Southside
**** killed your homie, you don't even come outside (What? What?)
Fucked your bitch on purpose (Uh-huh)
Them bows came in, we workin'
My song come on, she twerkin'
All the opps be broke, they hurtin' (They broke ass)
Written by: Darrell Jackson, Dayvon Bennett
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