Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Jayy Grams
Jayy Grams
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Justin McDonald
Justin McDonald
Songwriter
Sean Pompey
Sean Pompey
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Sap
Sap
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I'm moving in to tow ya unit off
Send 'em back seat wit' a Backy, I don't do cigars
Particles of you are lost inside of my new cruising dodge
Piles of dudes get threw across for miles and all I do is pause to get a drink
I mean regardless, they goners
I'm wit the God of the ganja
I get the guard, then I'm gonna get it like boxers
I used to spar with Hayelo and Von and Vinny on Voxer
The list of crew go on but we found that many imposters
I sensed the chakra
I'm Silkk the Shocker wit' a silky on
Got no limit, go over heads of those who appose gimmicks
Im no chemist but I be cheffing the most grimmest
Rouge clinic product you ever seen and it's no sinning
[Verse 2]
Find a match, not many results
What you did, not many would know
I done traveled the atlas, impacted quite many of folks
I'm from the block, drink dark, use Henny for coke
Its a "Everyday Struggle", no "Complex" context
Gotta keep a rattle like bomb threats, um yes
Don't lemme catch you slippin like Choncletas, thong shits
They aint even built, they pondex, beyond sex
SVVs on my arm neck
Iceberg sent the sweaters, that's a calm flex
Shorty, you actin like a blonde bitch
You never seen these 1 of 1's, these concepts
Ha, I said I'm not for play
112 grams, I rolled 28 with Jay
Ugh, it's OG and not home grown
Kush God bitch I get stoned, stoned
[Verse 3]
A bone thrown along my zone, know
Long chrome is ringing through the wall like its a home phone
Won't roam in here, my **** hunnid round goons like they Q Da Fool
Y'all Roman in the "IV" like a numeral
The usual pharmaceutical palm ya lootables
They armed wit' uzis and Rugers taking oodles and noodles too
Infusing the Buddha bit of booze and abuse the booth
Amusing-who would think all the rappers out, they'd be choosing you
A few rebuked but I'm still puking apocalypse coming
Fevered few with freestyles at a function
I'm wilder wit' punches like wilder wit punches
And yall can sleep on Jayy Grams until ya noggin dysfunction
[Verse 4]
Its not for discussion, I
Pop off the scene, rollin up a Russian Creme
Suckas scheme, all my **** ball like a Rucker team
Underground mainstream just between
Indy as a muufucka, just as mean, up the streams
Really just to think, it was just a dream
Classic Harlem **** with the bucket lean
Hoppin outta something that's just as clean
Dawgy, ya advance is brunch paper
You really the Grant Hill of pump fakers
Lemoncello this one, trust me this blunts way up
Take a hit and watch ya lungs shake up
Here's a tip, make sure ya funds made up
And if you jottin down this game, when you done, cake up
****
Written by: Justin McDonald, Sean Pompey
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