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Top Songs By NLE Choppa
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
NLE Choppa
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bryson Potts
Songwriter
Mikul Thomas
Songwriter
Ryan O'Neill
Songwriter
Thomas Horton
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Nate Graves
Mixing Engineer
Austin Patton
Assistant Recording Engineer
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Aaron Mattes
Mixing Engineer
Moneyevery
Producer
Mike Mvjor
Producer
TntXD
Producer
Karltin Bankz
Producer
LondnBlue
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
(Pipe that shit up, TnT)
(Brrt)
**** better not
**** better not pop out, for real
(Brr, aye, aye)
[Verse 2]
My brodie got a lick, he say he tryna bring 'bout forty back
Forty packs and forty racks, .40 cal and a MAC
Box him up, Apple Jacks, rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat
In the Scat', caught him lackin', windows crackin', tires flat
I said we ain't come here for nothin', ****, we want it all
Jewelry on, you know that I'm stuntin', ****, we love to ball
Never duckin' opps, if I'm inside, I'm duckin' federals
Stopped takin' Percocets 'cause I don't wanna slip on Fentanyl
[Verse 3]
Aye, pop him, drop him, I got 'bout twenty, on God
Aye, spot him, watch him, look one more time, I'll spark
Ain't no trustin' us, we bustin' stuff like we play for the Warriors
What you is, ****? What you bangin'? You say you that, then throw it up
Suck the gang, she throwin' up, now she sayin' she don't know us (Ayy)
New hoes comin' through, we goin' up, ****, fuck her (Yeah)
Drugged up, my face mugged up, he say I'm tough tough
Movin' with killers, we don't say shit, we let them guns bust
Even though I had talent, I was still out committing robberies
My past keep on following me, you know I acknowledge greed
Good deed, bad deed, we gon' do that shit if we in need
Bad bitch with bowed legs for me, I think she Cherokee
[Verse 4]
See how we comin', we Taliban
Drugs, paraphernalia and the contraband
They say they can smell us, still let me board, then I landed
Better treat me like Osama in this bitch, but we ain't stabbin', bullets gettin' to clappin'
[Verse 5]
First **** play, he gon' lay, aye-aye-aye
This a hooligan, she raisin' aye, bay-bay-bay
Wraith, that's my taste, I ain't tryna drive no straight-eight
Left a nut on her face, goodness sake, it look like a cake
Hit fast, hit slow, smokin' dope, lean out the bottle
Fuckin' on a model, I DM'd her, I ain't have to follow
Never trust a hoe, I put my faith into these fuckin' hollows
Come here, barrel to the face, blow his brains out him
He out of bounds, I had to foul him, ref throw in the towel (Come here)
The crowd goin' wild, big man on the block, Pau Gasol (Come here)
And round for round, pound for pound, you can't last, clown
You must ain't heard about that last **** we bugged out
[Verse 6]
My brodie got a lick, he say he tryna bring 'bout forty back
Forty packs and forty racks, .40 cal and a MAC
Box him up, Apple Jacks, rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat
In the Scat', caught him lackin', windows crackin', tires flat
I said we ain't come here for nothin', ****, we want it all
Jewelry on, you know that I'm stuntin', ****, we love to ball
Never duckin' opps, if I'm inside, I'm duckin' federals
Stopped takin' Percocets 'cause I don't wanna slip on Fentanyl
[Verse 7]
See how we comin', we Taliban
Drugs, paraphernalia and the contraband
They say they can smell us, still let me board, then I landed
Better treat me like Osama in this bitch, but we ain't stabbin', bullets gettin' to clappin' (Brrt)
****, we ain't stabbin', bullets get to clappin'
We ain't totin' machetes
We'll send you to Heaven, we be steppin'
We steppin', steppin', steppin' right in front the reverend (Brr)
NLE the Top Shotta, bombs like Al-Qaeda
Written by: Bryson Potts, Mikul Thomas, Mikul Thomas, Thomas Horton