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Top Songs By EST Gee
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
EST Gee
Vocals
42 Dugg
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
George Stone III
Songwriter
Aaron Lockhart
Songwriter
Dion Hayes
Songwriter
Jeffrey Lynn Jones Jr
Songwriter
Royce Monroe
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dubba-AA
Producer
Greedy Money
Producer
Royce Monroe
Mixing Engineer
Patrick Plummer
Recording Engineer
Don Cannon
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
This is Greedy Money
Dubba-AA flexin'
Lame **** wanna hang with us, but ain't bang with us
Slang with us, hanging out the window with them things with us
Gang members, real pain-givers like a train hit 'em
Fuck the game up, me and my **** ran a train in it
Why they playing with us? They know EST the big mob
Gave so many blues to you, they slide throwing Crip signs
Pill poppin', if I did stop, then I'd miss Quan
55 Zoski shooting drive, we ain't scared to die
Casey seen me laid up, made me cry, thought I lost my eye
I don't care who with 'em in that ride, everybody die
You ain't one of mine, a thousand on his mind a hundred timеs
He be lying, he ain't outsidе, popping shit on live
Big slime, I'ma give a dime up for the location
**** hoes, we gon' tote these poles, fuck probation
Thug ****, hate them blood ****, still a Cuz killer
Drug dealer full of 35, we gon' buy him out
Made my first M with CMG, like, "What you buy now?"
All-white, I rock Off White, bitch, let's talk prices
Bad bitches spend they last with me, ain't never had one
Thirty bricks for thirty-three a piece, I'm tryna grab one
I'm the bad son, Mama say she still love me, though
Cameras in the bedroom, it's hard for me to trust these hoes
Fuck these bows, I done seen a ticket selling bricks, ****
How you serving fiends? Bitch, I only sell to rich ****
Ass-kissing, baby, keep it pushing, I ain't your last ****
Fast whips, damn near hit the car, I'm tryna stash shit (Ayy)
Past-tense, I got a driver now, but even he know
I keep that nickel on me, so if they whoop me, ****, keep going
Don't throw them birds to me, that McNabb, I'm like T. Owens
Free yours and free mine, Gotti fightin' a body, bitch
I hope you beat it three times, you fail, we gon' keep trying
Quez been sliding, till something he killed, he gon' keep sliding
Five double-murders, doggy damn near got a graveyard
Shoutout to the prosecutor, that's the one who saved y'all
Bitch, I'm like, "Who raised y'all?" I don't need no days off
I pick up when that pape' call, bitch
Yeah, weak dog, fentanyl involved, make the H strong (That H strong, woof)
Making plays how I made my name, it ain't take long
Droplets of vanilla in my Tech to set the taste off
Pull off, make me wait long, I ain't no sitting duck (I ain't wait long)
Second run from scoring with that ice like a hockey puck
If you wanna get down, you gotta sacrifice your life to us (You sacrifice your life)
**** in that field wearing wires like they mic-ing up
Lackin' got yo' peoples' noodle touched, y'all need to tighten up (Tighten up)
We gon' get this money, give a fuck 'bout **** liking us
Ain't no winning fights with us, you know that we gon' light it up
You better have your pipe or something, you must wanna lose your life or something
Whipping, all **** work they wrists like they writing something
I brought all my dawgs into that huddle like I'm Mike or something (Like I'm Mike Vick)
Police found a face inside a puddle of your lifeless buddy
Better have your head on a swivel while in traffic
Gangster everywhere except my casket
I'm a made man if an opp **** asking (If a opp **** asking)
With traps in every side county close except for Radcliffe, ****
Written by: Aaron Lockhart, Dion Hayes, George Stone III, Latroy Garrett