Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
NLE Choppa
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bryson Potts
Songwriter
Darrell Jackson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Aaron Mattes
Mixing Engineer
Jack Dine
Recording Engineer
Chop Squad DJ
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
(Banger, banger)
Aye
And we came from nothin'
No, no, no, no, no, hey (Brr)
Yeah-yeah, yeah, oh (DJ on the beat, so it's a banger)
[Verse 2]
Told my mama we straight, put the food on her plate
So you know that a young **** pavin' the way
He ain't talkin' 'bout money, he talkin' 'bout nothin'
You know that a **** on the paper chase (Fuck 'em)
I was stickin' up ****, I needed that cash
My mama had told me to change my ways (Grr)
That shit was so crazy, my mind was racin'
I hit my knees every night and prayed for better days
Goin' back broke, man, a **** like, "Uh-uh" (Uh-uh)
Glock on my lap, but the chopper in the trunk (The trunk)
Drippin' nowadays, I was ridin' on a bunk (On a bunk)
Interrogation room, I was actin' like a dumb-dumb (A dumb-dumb)
I don't know shit, I can't tell you nothin' (I don't know shit)
Bitch, I came up off robbin' and hustlin'
I got them bodies, but I can't discuss it
And if I see an opp, I'ma kill him in public (I'ma kill him)
[Verse 3]
We are the body catchers, yeah (The body catchers, the body catchers)
I'ma leave a fuck **** layin' on a stretcher (On a stretcher, on a stretcher) Yeah, yeah
[Verse 4]
First row, I was just in the nosebleeds
**** say they didn't know me (The fuck?)
If a **** say that I'm a hoe or a bitch
He gon' have to come show me (Come test me)
Got twin Glocks like Zack and Cody
Make 'em lean like codeine
I was thirteen, sellin' all the dope fiends
Had to get it by any means (Trap, trap)
I'ma speak my mind, but I think about murder
Go flip an opposition like a **** was a burger (Yeah, yeah)
How the fuck you a street ****, rats in your circle? (Yeah, yeah)
If a **** tell what I did, I'ma have to murk him
I'ma decorate a **** casket
How you a shooter, you ain't got no badges? (You a bitch)
Mama cryin' on the scene, tragic
My bullets a present, they'll leave you in the past tense
[Verse 5]
Told my mama we straight, put the food on her plate
So you know that a young **** pavin' the way
He ain't talkin' 'bout money, he talkin' 'bout nothin'
You know that a **** on the paper chase
I was stickin' up ****, I needed that cash
My mama had told me to change my ways
That shit was so crazy, my mind was racin'
I hit my knees every night and prayed for better days
Goin' bad broke, man, a **** like, "Uh-uh" (Uh-uh)
Glock on my lap, but the chopper in the trunk (The trunk)
Drippin' nowadays, I was ridin' on a bunk (On a bunk)
Interrogation room, I was actin' like a dumb-dumb (A dumb-dumb)
I don't know shit, I can't tell you nothin' (I don't know shit)
Bitch, I came up off robbin' and hustlin'
I got them bodies, but I can't discuss it
And if I see an opp, I'ma kill him in public (I'ma kill him)
[Verse 6]
We are the body catchers, yeah (The body catchers)
I'ma leave a fuck **** layin' on a stretcher (On a stretcher, stretcher)
[Verse 7]
The body catchers, the body catchers
On a stretcher, on a stretcher, aye
Written by: Bryson Potts, Darrell Jackson