Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
NLE Choppa
NLE Choppa
Vocals
FreshDuzIt
FreshDuzIt
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bryson Potts
Bryson Potts
Songwriter
Darzell Triplett
Darzell Triplett
Songwriter
Demario Smith Jr.
Demario Smith Jr.
Songwriter
James Lee Baker
James Lee Baker
Songwriter
Mario Mims
Mario Mims
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Tve Bandz
Tve Bandz
Mixing Engineer
FreshDuzIt
FreshDuzIt
Producer

Lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah
FreshDuzIt
Yeah
Huh? Huh? Huh?
[Chorus]
I ain't gon' say too much when a **** speakin' on that hot shit
Fuck the police 'cause them bitches ain't gon' stop shit
Oppositions mad, if they play they gettin' popped quick
Flyest **** in the game, yeah, I'm a cockpit
Posted on Camelot with a hundred some shottas
I be swimmin' with the sharks, lil' ****, you a lobster
Bullets heat a **** up, like he eatin' on some pasta
And shout out to Kingston, I keep me some Rastas
[Verse 1]
My **** trappin' out the bando, shout out to the Migos (The Migos)
If a **** knock wrong, shoot him through the peephole
The trap always open, bitch, we ain't never closed
We movin' them packs and we movin' them kilos
Step one, step two, do my dance in this bitch
Got a hundred some drums like a band in this bitch
Man, she keep on bitchin', all that naggin' and shit
Ho, shut the fuck up and just gag on this dick
I'm a side ****, and I love when she swallow
If her **** say something, hit him with a hollow
That glizzy, knock your meat out your taco (Yeah, your taco)
Flexin' on these bitches, they call me Johnny Bravo
School of hard knocks, let me take you to class
My bitch is real skinny, but she got a lot of ass
I love counting money, I get a lot of cash
If you try to take it from me, his toe gon' have a tag, yeah
[Chorus]
I ain't gon' say too much when a **** speakin' on that hot shit
Fuck the police 'cause them bitches ain't gon' stop shit
Oppositions mad, if they play they gettin' popped quick
Flyest **** in the game, yeah, I'm a cockpit
Posted on Camelot with a hundred some shottas
I be swimmin' with the sharks, lil' ****, you a lobster
Bullets heat a **** up, like he eatin' on some pasta
And shout out to Kingston, I keep me some Rastas
[Verse 2]
All up in the party, you know we keep them carbines (Them carbines)
Bring a **** chills like I work at Baskin-Robbins (Robbins)
I love Batman, but a young **** robbin'
Firework show 'cause my **** get to sparkin'
I'm a hothead, I'll crash any second (Huh, yeah)
He speakin' on who? Send his bitch ass to heaven (Who? To heaven)
Extended clips when we tote them MAC-11's (Yeah, yeah, uh-huh)
My ****, they be crippin', they be screamin' out them sevens (Huh, yeah, crip)
Why you investigating me? 'Cause I don't know a thing (Yeah)
And I'ma always keep it solid, I'll never sing
You know I'm Shotta Fam, always gotta rep the gang (Shotta)
He kept on dissin', so a **** had to snatch his brain, huh? (Gang, gang)
[Outro]
Had to snatch his brain, huh? (I had to snatch that **** brain)
I had to snatch his brain, yeah (Had to snatch that **** brain)
I had to make it rain, yeah (Make that motherfucker rain)
R. Kelly, let that fuckin' chopper sing, yeah (Make it sing)
Written by: Bryson Potts, Darzell Triplett, Demario Smith Jr., James Lee Baker, Mario Mims
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